festival. Could London milkmen only live in
dread of galactometers, as now the Paris
milkmen do! For some day Paris will be in like
manner taken by surprise; and the produce of
the forty-eight thousand three hundred and
seventy cows, whose milk she consumes, will
flow in curls, like wedding favours, along the
Boulevards!

DUELLING IN ENGLAND.

THE ordeal by battle introduced into
England by the Norman conqueror died out
of general usage in Queen Elizabeth's time.
It, however, remained the law of the land
until the year eighteen hundred and eighteen,
when it was repealed in consequence of a
resort to it by one Thornton. He had deceived
and murdered a beautiful girl named Ashford,
and, claiming his right to wager of
battel, the Court of Queen's Bench was
obliged to allow it; the girl's brother, whom
he challenged, refusing to fight, the murderer
was discharged.

The duel between Sir Walter Blount and
the Earl of Essex—because young Blount had
received from Elizabeth, as a reward for his
fine tilting the day before, a chess-queen of
enamelled gold—was one of the modern as
compared with the ancient sort. Gathering up
his cloak as he passed through the privy
chamber, that all the world might see his
sovereign's gift fastened to his arm by
crimson ribbons, it is likely enough that the
new favourite flaunted his success with more
pride than prudence, and that Essex, whose
scanty patience never held out long against
the smallest assault of jealousy, felt himself
fully justified in his wrath. "Now I perceive,"
he said scornfully to Fulk Greville,
"that every fool must have his favour."
Which uncivil speech ripened into a challenge
and a duel, wherein the earl was wounded
in the thigh; a circumstance that caused
our mighty and most wrathful queen to say,
"God's death! it is fit that some one should
take him down, and teach him better
manners; else there will be no rule with him!"
The Crowned Vestal was weary of the elder
favourite's temper and disrespect, and Blount,
the younger and latest darling, was as yet
impeccable.

Such encounters soon grew worse than
mere passages-at-arms between two  
ambitious young courtiers; and, in the reign
of James the First, the evil rose to a
fearful height. Bacon did what he could to
check it; declaring that he would make no
difference between a coronet and a hatband,
but would prosecute all—principals and
seconds alike—who had any art or part in
a duel, even to the appointing of a field,
though no duel were to take place. He did
little good, despite all his efforts. The spirit
of the times went with the duellers; and no
attorney-general, though the wisest and
greatest of mankind, could turn the current
of men's hot blood. It was a disease which
must run its course, and wear itself out.

A more terrible drama even than this,
occurred in the same reign, between the
Duke of B. and Lord B., concerning a
certain beautiful Countess of E. The duke
challenged the lord, and, contrary to usage,
gave him the choice of weapons, the
challenger's privilege. They met the next
morning—a cold, rainy, miserable morning;
time, five o'clock; place, the first tree
behind the lodge in Hyde Park. They stripped
off their fine scarlet coats trimmed with gold
and silver lace—the duke excessively
indignant that they should examine his vest, so
as to be certain there was no unlawful
protection underneath, but the lord, more
accustomed to the formalities, submitting to
the search coolly enough—and then they took
their pistols, before taking to their swords;
according to the fashion of the times. At
the first fire the duke missed, but Lord
B. hit his grace near the thumb; at the
second fire, the duke hit the lord. They then
drew their swords and rushed on each other.
After the first or second thrust Lord B.
entangled his foot in a tuft of grass, and fell;
but, supporting himself with his sword hand
he sprung back, and thus avoided a thrust
made at his heart. The seconds then
interfered, and attempted to bring about a
reconciliation; but the duke—who seems to have
been the most fiery throughout—angrily
ordered them back, threatening to stab the
first who again interfered. After much good
play and fine parrying they came to a "close
lock, which nothing but the key of the body
could open." Thus they stood, unable to
strike a blow, each afraid to give the other
the smallest advantage, yet each struggling
to free himself from his entanglement. At
last, by one wrench stronger than the others,
they tore themselves away; and at the
same time both their swords sprang out
of their hands—Lord B.'s six or seven
yards in the air. This accident, however,
did not retard them long; they seized their
weapons again and fought on. The lord
was then wounded in the sword arm; but
bearing back, and before the duke had quite
recovered from his lunge, he ran him through
the body. The blow left the lord unguarded;
and, with the sword through him, the duke
cut and thrust at his antagonist, who had
only his naked hand wherewith to guard
himself. After his hand had been fearfully
mangled with putting aside his enemy's
sword, the lord was in his turn run through
—one rib below the heart. Again the
seconds interfered; again without success;
when the lord, faint from loss of blood, fell
backward, and in falling, drew his sword
out of the duke's wound. "Recovering
himself a little before he was quite down, he
faltered forward, and, falling with his thigh
across his sword, snapped it in the midst."
The duke then took his own sword, broke