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For a moment, I was a little angry, I confess. Mr. P.
not having seen my reply, could not be considered as challenging
me, for my own opinion of his father, as expressed
in the note—and of course, if I fought, it must be (under
that state of the affair) because I would not disavow all
agency, in the publication of Randolph! That was devilish
hard, I thought—it gave me no chance of backing out—by
any sort of apology, or explanation—provided that I
would'nt lie—and had been unlucky enough to correct a
proof, or too, of Randolph; as I have, of twenty other
works, that I never wrote.

I desired a little time to reflect, before I replied to the
challenge; mentioning that, if I did not fight, I should trouble
a gentleman whom we both knew, to bear my answer:
The friend of Mr. P. then left me, taking with him my reply,
marked No. II.

However, I soon made up my mind, without consulting
anybody—and without much difficulty too, I confess—not
to fight—and handed my answer, that evening, within half
an hour, while the paroxysm of forbearance was at the
height—to my friend, above alluded to; one of the best men
that ever lived; wholly ignorant of duelling-etiquette—
but full of true courage. These were my reasons, pro and
con. It may amuse you, to know how I came to the conclusion.
I must fight, because I am challenged. Being the
challenged party, I can choose my weapons. I choose the
small sword; with which, I have little to fear from any man
living—in this country, certainly. The affair will make a
noise—prevent others from challenging me; and I shall
have the credit of introducing a far less bloody, and fatal
mode of deciding personal controversies, than that of the
pistol. On the other side, I asked, what I was going to
fight for?—By fighting, I should countenance duelling—to
which I was particularly averse, just at that time---acknowledge
myself to be answerable for whatever there might
be offensive, or foolish—or even misunderstood, in Randolph;
and fifty people at least, would be obliged to challenge

me, then—or be suspected of cowardice;—and I
should be obliged to fight them all, one after the other; or
be posted at last! Again.—However reluctantly, I might
be compelled to run Mr. P. through the body, in self-defence—then,
of course, I must run every one of his brothers
through the body, as fast as they were old enough.
Their brother's blood would cry to them, continually, from
the ground. They would have to avenge his murder;---
and murder, it would be, in their eyes; and, probably, in
those of the publick; who, in their sympathy with the family,
would magnify my skill in the weapon, which I had chosen,
a thousand fold; and his ignorance, in the same proportion.
They would talk, too, of my age, and of his---of my
temper, and of his;—and say, that he was a young man full of
genius, and sensibility---a poet---an officer in the navy,
which is, and ought to be our national boast---the only one
of all the sons, unmarried, and at home, old enough to
quarrel, in defence of their great father; and, that he was obliged,
therefore, to call upon me for my disavowal; and that
my answer was only intended to provoke him; and that, after
he received it, he could do no otherwise, than challenge
me---and that I ought never to have fought him. Now, all
this would be exceedingly hard to bear---and not the less
hard for being true;—nor the more easily born, because
there might be blood upon my hands: or because I was not
upheld by my own conviction of right; which alone would
enable me to support all the rest. With it, I could bear
any thing. Without it, nothing; whatever the world might
say.

Well, my friend delivered, for me, the following note—
not, however, till the next day; having been unable to meet
the party, to whom it was to be given, that evening; although
he called for the purpose.