death. Sheridan won his wife, the
beautiful Miss Linley, by fighting twice on
her account, with Mr. Matthews, of Bath;
and Captain Stoney married Lady Strathmore
the same week in which he had fought
for her sake with Mr. Butt, editor of the
Morning Post;—the cause of duel in both
instances being certain malicious and
slanderous words which both these gentlemen
had published, or caused to be published,
against the ladies in question. But, in
those days, every one fought reason or none.
The Duke of York and Colonel Lennox,—
the Colonel's fire grazed the Duke's curl,
but his royal highness deloped (fired in
the air); Mr. Curran and Major Hobart;
John Kemble and Mr. Aiken; Lord
Lonsdale and Colonel Cuthbert—because
Cuthbert, keeping Mount Street clear,
would not allow Lord Lonsdale's carriage
to pass, contrary to orders—Pitt and
Mr. Tierney; Sir Francis Burdett and Mr.
Paull; O'Connell and D'Esterre—a bad
business with hints of not quite fair play
on the part of the seconds; Fox and Mr.
Adam; and Wilkes, three times—with Lord
Talbot, Mr. Martin, and Mr. Forbes. It
was part of a gentleman's education and
privilege in those days; something that belonged
to him of right, like his armorial bearings
and his ancestral oaks. It did not always
remain a privilege exclusively appropriated
to blood, however; witness the fatal affair
in which a rash linendraper, named Mirfin,
was engaged, on Wimbledon Common in
eighteen hundred and thirty-eight; an affair
that, happily, disgusted many of the blue
blood, and gave a turn the right way to the
practice of duelling. But, we must go back
again to the times of darkness.

On April the fifteenth, seventeen hundred
and ninety, Sir George Ramsey's servant
kept a chair for him at the door of the Edinburgh
Theatre. Captain Macrae ordered him
to take it away; the man refused; the
captain beat him severely, and the next day,
meeting Sir George, insisted on his instant
dismissal. This time Sir George refused, and
Captain Macrae challenged him. They
fought on Musselburgh Links. Sir George's
fire was without effect, but Captain Macrae
lodged his ball near his adversary's heart.
Sir George lingered for a few days in great
agony, then died. Macrae fled, and was
outlawed. When the servant heard of his
master's fate and the cause of the quarrel, he
fell into strong convulsions, and, in a few
hours, died.

This was not the only quarrel about a
servant. Ensign Sawyer, of O'Farrell's
regiment in Kinsale, beat Captain Wrey's
servant for giving, as he said, a slighting answer
to his wife. The servant took out a warrant
of assault, and the ensign challenged the
captain for allowing him to do so. Captain
Wrey remonstrated with the lad, and
endeavoured to cool his hot young blood; carrying
him off far from the town, so as to have
a better and longer talk. He thought
he was doing some good and bringing
the boy to reason, when suddenly he
drew, and there was now no help for
it. The captain threw himself on the
defensive, and, in endeavouring to disarm the
ensign, ran him through. He died in two hours,
kissing the captain, and owning himself the
aggressor. Poor foolish lad; with a young
wife waiting tearfully at home, and the little
unborn innocent orphaned before it saw the
light!

Even for more trifling things than these,
were duels fought and lives lost. Mr.
Stephenson was killed at Margate by Mr.
Anderson, in a quarrel about opening or
shutting a window; Captain Macnamara shot
Colonel Montgomery through the heart,
because their dogs fought in Hyde Park; Lord
Camelford and Mr. Best, bosom friends,
fought about a worthless woman's transparent
lie, in which affray Lord Camelford was
fortunately shot, as he deserved to be; Baron
Hompesch was called out by Mr. Richardson,
because the Baron, being very shortsighted,
ran against two ladies in the street,—
Richardson was killed; young Julius, a lawyer's
clerk, was killed by Mr. Graham, also a
lawyer, for a difference of religious opinion;
Clark shot Mr. Frizell dead, because Frizell
refused to drink any more—they were
both law students. Political duels—duels
arising out of a mere difference of political
view—were without number. The saddest
of these was that between Mr. Alcock and
Mr. Colclough, great friends and associates.
They quarrelled at Alcock's election-time,
went out and fought, and Colclough was
shot through the heart. Mr. Alcock never
recovered the horror of that moment. Tried
and acquitted of the murder, he yet could not
acquit himself; and, in a short time he sank
into a state of melancholy, that was nearer to
insanity than sorrow. His sister, Miss
Alcock, who had long known and loved Mr.
Colclough, went mad.

Mr. Cuddie was a Scotch surgeon, at Winster,
in Derbyshire. He attended the family ot
the Brittlebanks, and fell in love with Miss
Brittlebank. The family—especially the
brothers—disapproved of the connection, and
Cuddie was ordered to withdraw his pretensions.
But, Miss Brittlebank loved him in
return. One day they were met walking
together by her brother, William. He took his
sister away, and high words passed between
him and the surgeon. The next day he
challenged Mr. Cuddie; the challenge was
refused; whereupon he and his brothers—
Andrew and Francis—accompanied by a
friend, Edmund Spencer, also a surgeon,
went to Cuddie's house, and demanded an
apology, or a duel. Cuddie refused both.
He had nothing to apologise for; he loved
Miss Brittlebank, and she loved him; and he
would not fight with her brother. At last,