I hope, Sir, you will not meet —

I will not meet any man, Mr. Reeves, as a duel-list: I am not so much a coward, as to be afraid of being branded for one. I hope my spirit is in ge-neral too well known for any one to insult me on such an imputation. Forgive the seeming vanity, Mr. Reeves: but I live not to the world: I live to myself; to the monitor within me.

Mr. Reeves applauded him with his hands and eyes; but could not in words. The heart spoke these last words, said my good cousin. How did his face seem to shine in my eyes!

There are many bad customs, Mr. Reeves, that I grieve for: but for none so much as this of preme-ditated duelling. Where is the magnanimity of the man that cannot get above the vulgar breath? How many fatherless, brotherless, sonless families have mourned all their lives the unhappy resort to this dreadful practice! A man who defies his fellow-creature into the field, in a private quarrel, must first defy his God; and what are his hopes, but to be a murderer? to do an irreparable injury to the inno-cent family and dependents of the murdered? — But since you have been let into the matter so far, by the unaccountable letter you let me see, I will shew you Sir Hargrave’s to me. — This is it, taking it out of his pocket-book.

You did well, Sir Charles Grandison, to leave your name. My scoundrels were too far off their master to inform themselves, who the person was that insulted an innocent man (as to him, innocent, how — ever) on the highway. You expected to hear from me, it is evident; and you should have heard before now, had I been able from the effects of the unmanly surprise you took advantage of, to leave my chamber. I demand from you the satisfaction due to a gentleman. The time your own; provided it exceed not next Wednesday; which will give you opportunity, I suppose, to settle your affairs; but the sooner the better. The place, if you have no objection, Kensington Gravel-pits. I will bring pistols for your choice; or you may for mine, which you will. The rest may be left to my worthy friend Mr. Bagenhall, who is so kind as to carry you this, on my part; and to some one whom you shall pitch upon, on yours. Till when, I am

Your humble servant,

HARGRAVE POLLEXFEN

Saturday.

I have a copy of my answer somewhere — Here it is. You will wonder, perhaps, Mr. Reeves, on such a subject as this, to find it a long one. Had Sir Hargrave known me better than he does, six lines might have been sufficient.

SIR,