because of a paragraph in his oration on the
Duke de Feltre; Ségur was wounded by
General Gourgaud on account of his
Campaign in Russia; Pépé—but he was a
Neapolitan—wounded an author on Italy, because
he did not like his book; two romance
writers fought for the honour of classic and
romantic literature; Garnarey, the artist,
shot Captain Eayuouard of the Caravanne;
later, Armand Carrel, editor of the National,
and Eoux Laborie, another editor, fought
and wounded each other,—later still, Carrel
was killed by Emile de Girardin; Barthélémy,
editor of the Peuple Souverain, killed
David, editor of the Garde National, and
Alexandre Dumas fought Gaillardet, his
co-creator of La Tour de Nesle, fortunately
without damage on either side; Trobriant
shot Pélicier of the Home department on
account of a popular song; and General Bugeaud
shot Dulong, a lawyer, after the latter had
made a written apology: while duels on
account of wives and sisters were almost as
numerous as there were fair women in France.

Monsieur Manuel, a Pole, a married man
of middle age, had for his friend Monsieur
Beaumont, some ten or fifteen years his junior.
Both were stock-brokers. By anonymous
letters Monsieur Manuel was informed that
Beaumont and his wife were on terms scarcely
consistent with his honour and her duties.
He did not trust only to these letters, but
discovered for himself that the charge was
true; whereupon he left Paris, his wife
remaining behind with her lover. Some time
after he returned on business, and encountered
Beaumont on the exchange. They
quarrelled, and Manuel challenged him; the
next day they met, and Manuel was shot
dead. The authorities refused to allow him
to be buried in consecrated ground, because
he had fallen in a duel, but popular clamour
forced the point; then the priest would not
read the burial-service over him, until a fresh
outbreak forced that as well; and, when
even that concession was gained, he would
not read the service in his robes. But, after
a long and noisy dispute, the people gained
the day, and poor Manuel was buried with
the full rites of the church. Beaumont was
obliged to fly; but what became of Madame
Manuel no one knew.

The most atrocious duel of modern times
is one that took place near New Orleans,
between two Frenchmen—Hippolyte Throuet
and Paulin Prué. They were placed back
to back, at five paces; at a certain signal
they turned and fired to no effect. They
then took their second pistols; but, Prue
grasped his so convulsively that it went off
in the air. Throuet paused, covering him
with his pistol, the bystanders crying, "Don't
fire! For God's sake, don't fire!" Prué stood,
bravely and quietly, fronting his enemy.
After a lapse of several minutes, during
which every one present had been wrought up
to a pitch of nervous frenzy, Throuet, advancing
slowly, with a diabolical laugh, pulled the trigger,
and his ball passed through Prue's heart.

We will close this subject of madness and
wickedness with a retributive story of a duel
between an Englishman and a Frenchman. A
certain English gentleman who was a regular
frequenter of the green-room of Drury Lane
Theatre in the days of Lord Byron's
committee, and who always stood quietly on the
hearthrug there, with his back to the fire,
was in his usual place one night when a
narrative was related by another gentleman newly
returned from the continent, of a barrier-duel
that had taken place in Paris. A young
Englishman—a mere boy— had been despoiled in a
gaming-house in the Palais Royal, had charged
a certain gaming Count with cheating him, had
gone out with the Count, had wasted his fire,
and had been slain by the Count under the
frightful circumstances of the Count's
walking up to him, laying his hand on his heart,
saying, "You are a brave fellow—have you a
mother?" and on his replying in the affirmative,
remarking coolly, "I am sorry for her,"
and blowing his victim's brains out. The
gentleman on the hearthrug paused in taking
a pinch of snuff to hear this story, and
observed with great placidity, "I am afraid
I must kill that rascal." A few nights
elapsed, during which the green-room hearthrug
was without him, and then he reappeared
precisely as before, and only incidentally
mentioned in the course of the evening,
"Gentlemen I killed that rascal!" He had
gone over to Paris on purpose, had tracked
the Count to the same gaming-house, had
thrown a glass of wine in his face in the
presence of all the company assembled there,
had told him that he was come to avenge his
young compatriot—and had done it by
putting the Count out of this world and coming
back to the hearthrug as if nothing had
happened.

In July will be published, price Five Shillings and
Six-pence, neatly bound in cloth,
               THE FIFTEENTH VOLUME
                                OF
                  HOUSEHOLD WORDS,
Containing the Numbers issued between the Third of
January and the Twenty-seventh of June of the present
year.

Just published, in Two Volumes, post 8vo, price One
                            Guinea,
                 THE DEAD SECRET.
                  BY WILKIE COLLINS.
        Bradbury and Evans, Whitefriars.