University of Virginia Library

8. CHAPTER VIII.

“Well, I confess, Albert Hammond,” said I, the
next evening, as we sat together, taking our tea on
the same sofa—“that you have a wonderful knowledge
of the female heart, for one so little experienced,
and so—so—so—ahem!”—

“Ugly—out with it!--yes, you are right: but some women
don't mind ugliness of body; and, give me but an
opportunity to make a woman start, and thrill, with
hatred for me---to make her think of me, when she is
alone---I care not how; well, or ill---let me but sit by
her, when she can only hear my voice, and not see
my face, or person---let me but put my warm lips,
once, devoutly to her cheek---and, no matter---I would
not give up my chance, for that of a much handsomer
fellow.”

“Much handsomer fellow!” said I.

“You are squeamish to night, Bill.—Shall I say one,
not so horribly ugly---will that suit you?”

“Yes---I never say of two short men, that one is
shorter than the other; but that one is taller than the
other:---for I would not obtrude an idea upon the
mind, which I know is unpleasant. So I would'nt say
of you, that.”

“O, hang your apologies---they are more insufferable
than your sarcasms.”

“But have you ever loved another?”

“Yes---heart, and blood, and pulse?”

“Whom?”

“I won't tell you.”

“Pretty fair---faith.”

“Yes.”

“Well, well--was it that widow, in Virginia?” said I.

“No---but how came you to know any thing about
her?”

“I heard some strange stories about you, there.”

“Never mind them---tell me about her. What did
you hear?”

“That you fell in love with her, shockingly.”

“No, no! that's all a mistake; that fall was from
the gig. We were tandem; and one day, I had just
made an agreement with my fellow traveller, that, if
any thing should possess the horses, while he was
driving, he should hold on upon the reins, so long
as he had a limb upon his body; and I would never
leave the whirligig, while there was life in me. It was
a most providential agreement; for, in less than ten
minutes, the rear horse, a powerful fellow, threw up
both of his great, clumsy heels, into my face—cut
through our iron dasher—stove an umbrella—shattered
my knee pan; and gave me a fall—that was the
fall of which you speak—nothing more.”

“No—there was more bruising than that.”

“Well then, let me tell you the truth. She was a
charming woman. Her husband had been a charming
man; but had killed himself by hard drinking. I
had heard the finest character in the world of him—
but nothing of that—from his own brother—And
when I saw the widow, clouded and sorrow stricken;
weeping, absolutely, as if he had just died---it went
to my heart. I cannot deny it---it did---and I undertook
to console her. She was a religious woman;
and not to be comforted heretically. I told her that
whatever is, is not only right, but best. I then began
to follow up my doctrine with illustration; and as the
devil would have it, I stumbled upon this, “He loved
you, madam, when he died:--he might have lived, till he
had changed. And you might have gone to your
grave then, of a broken heart; he was a sober and temperate,
exemplary man---but if he had lived”---the devil!
thought I---my consolation has had a most surprising
effect! It has stopped her breath!—and tears! It
was a styptick only for the bleeding of her heart----
but, I looked up. She made me a profound courtesy,

and vanished. She was a lovely woman; and I was rapidly
obtaining her best opinion!”

“You must have had some fun, in Virginia,” said I.

“Yes, I`ll give you an idea of it,” he replied. “I
trod upon oaken floors, waxed to a perilous but
beautiful smoothness; slept in a bed, where one President,
at least, of the United States, had slept before
me:---Showed, to an experienced farmer, the reason
why he grew poorer and poorer, every year, with
eighty slaves upon his plantation; because there were
less than ten able bodied men, whose labour could not
support the other seventy women and children; old
men and sick; I demonstrated to him, that it would be
really cheaper to work his lands, with a breed of New
England farmers. But let me tell you some of our
experiences.”

“One day, we met with a most kind hearted old
gentleman, to whom we complained bitterly of the
villanous tricks, that had been played upon us, by
persons, of whom we had enquired the road. The
good creature!--he rode three miles out of his way, to
put us into a short cut, which he had travelled for thirty
years; and he left us, wishing us a pleasant ride. We
brushed on.”

“You cannot readily form an idea of it; but you
may, of us, when I tell you, that, we were five hours,
part of it in a tremendous thunder storm beating four
miles, with the wind aft; for a whole hour together,
not a wheel would touch the ground; and we led our
horses, where goats would have felt their heads turn,
and their surefootedness in peril Julius Cœsar! what
a passion I was in, when night came on! But the
next day—on our return, by another road, while we
were talking over the trick; and I was wishing to encounter
the old man for about ten minutes—we came,
all at once, upon him. He was ahead of us—his broad
hat, pulled over one eye—his whip, held stifly in his
hand, racking away—(a vile, execrable pace, that the
finest horses in Virginia are taught) My first disposition
was to knock him off his horse, or shoot a bullet
through his old hat—head and all—but he turned
round, so innocently, that I could not, for my heart,

have harmed one of his gray hairs. “I thought, sir,
said I, “that you had travelled that cursed road, for
thirty years.”

“So I have,” he replied, looking surprised.

“In a gig!” said I.

“A gig!—O, Lord!---O, I beg your pardon---O,
gentlemen--No---O!---Oh—no---I always went a foot,
or on horseback---Oh, no---in a gig! O, Lord, no!”

Poor fellow---we had been so busy; and he, so kind,
that he had overlooked our situation---he did not see
that were in a gig, with two spirited horses, tandem!
nor recollected that he had always travelled it, a foot,
or on horseback.

“We went into it,[1] with a kind of carriage called a
Buggy, horses, harness and equipage, altogether, worth
about one thousand, or twelve hundred dollars; and
we returned, with about enough of the original BUGGY,
to make a snuff box of;—it had been pieced and patched;
mended and painted; till it looked more like something
put together by chance, than with any preconcerted
intention. At one dash, we carried away the
top; shattered the whipple tree; snapped one arm off;
and dislocated every joint in it. At another, (I was
driving, then,) we leaped both horses, at once, in their
harness, with the gig at their heels, out of a ferry boat,
upon a solid bed of rock. Neither of us had ever
driven tandem before; and it was the luckiest thing, in
the world, that our bodies did not arrive, at the end of
every day's travel, shattered as badly as the gig. I
went for amusement; the gentleman with me, upon
business. You have been in Virginia. You know
something of their sawney way of drawling out their
words, like molasses candy; and you know that I am
somewhat impetuous.”

“Somewhat!” said I. “I believe you. I used to
think differently; but you are mightily changed since
you were a boy.”

“O, my whole nature has altered, since I was a
boy; the gibing and taunting, of all the world, have
turned the very heart in my bosom to gall. I feel it

dissolving at the core, and the mortal poison dripping
from it. Yet I do hope---I do, William Adams, fervently,
that I shall be able to make them tremble yet,
without being a bad man. O, had heaven been pleased
to give me shape and beauty, like other men, what
might I not have been?”

“And would you give up your talent; your inward
superiority, Hammond, in exchange for beauty?”

“Would I! Ah! I cannot tell. Some times I think, that
I would---that it would be better for me, were I a fool,
in spirit, with the outward proportions of humanity---
than to be---what! a destestable thing, that men avoid
---and children cry out at---and women---O heaven---
that is hard to bear---that women cannot love.”

“Yet you have been loved.”

“True, true, I have been; but how! not as I should
have been, were I less powerful of spirit, and less horrible
of body.”

“I doubt it; women that are worth subduing, are
not to be won by shape.”

“Nonsense, William; shape and beauty have power
with all things in heaven and earth. God meant that
they should have it. The very beast cowers before
them. A beautiful woman might go naked among
lions, unhurt; a naked man might pluck the young
leopard away from its mother's dugs---were he still
the lordly, imperious, undegenerate, noble creature,
that God put into paradise!”

I pressed his hands. I leaned my forehead against
his face. I loved him; and I wept.

“And what have I to console me?” he continued---
his melancholy eyes shadowed; and his mouth quivering:
“my intellectual superiority? How know I that
the veriest fool about me, might not have been greater,
had he been spit upon, and trodden upon, as I have
been!”

“Forgive me, Hammond; O, forgive me,” said I, for
my heart smote me, and I remembered where and by
whom, he had been spit upon.

“From my heart and soul, do I,” said he. “I knew
you then, William, even then; and blessed you for the
love that I had for---for—.”

“For whom!” said I, lifting my head.

“No matter,” he answered, quickly---proudly; “no
matter---men will deceive themselves. The ugliest
will sometimes forget their ugliness; and when they
see beautiful eyes change colour---and a beautiful
mouth struck pale, at the sound of their voice; when
they hear another, in reply, so sweet, that this sound,
like the continual ringing of a thin silver pipe, through
which water is running swiftly—no earthiness in the
colour of the one---nothing mortal in the smooth melody
of the other; yet fainting away at their approach--
O, men will deceive themselves! What wonder then
that I did! that I, who had locked into angel eyes, till
my own shadow seemed beautiful there; till the deep
blue of heaven, itself, while I stood rapt and wondering
at it; warm with a light so like her own---seemed peopled,
like her eyes, only with brilliant and lovely
shapes. What wonder that the blue flower; the diluted
sapphire; had all a sweet population, just like what
I had studied so intently in the blue of her eyes. O,
Jehovah! but I did forget thee! myself---the world: ---
all but her!----Look where I would, I saw nothing but
her halfshut eye lids, and wet mouth opening and trembling.
My books were full of her—my drawings—nay,
my very flute had caught the tone of her voice; and, for
my soul, I could not make it utter any other sound!—
What wonder, William Adams, that this delusion and
death were fatal to me. What wonder, after I had forgotten
myself and all my ambition—that I prayed only
for some dark solitary place, where I might lie down,
far away from men; and die, with my eyes fixed upon
her! I did not pray to wed her—O, I did not think of it.
I might have shuddered at the thought; or prayed for
barrenness—but oh, my friend! my friend! may you never
feel that sorrow; that of all others, which is most
deadly, and enervating; that, of having loved tenderly,
passionately, devoutly, with the holiest and purest
feeling of all your heart—without daring to wish for
gratification. I cannot go on---you are affected, distressed—thank
you—men should not weep at trifles,
William; and such men as you, never—I—I—.”

I felt, as if—zounds!—it was just if some one were
pouring cold water down my back—at the lamentable
sound—a—a—ahem—!

“You were speaking of Virginia,” said I, as soon as
I could articulate audibly, “let us change the subject.”

“Yes, yes,” said he, endeavouring to laugh—“You
remind me of a man that I saw on trial once. The
clerk read the indictment to him; and he stood mute.”

“Guilty or not guilty!” said the clerk.

“He was silent.”

“Speak sir,” said the Chief Justice—“Answer to
the indictment. What do you say? guilty or not
guilty?”

“Spose we change the subject;”[2] said the man.

“You were at Harper's ferry,” I continued. “Is it so
very wonderful?”

“No---no such mighty matter, I assure you---“the
war of the rivers and mountains”---the scene, which
was worth crossing the Atlantick to see.”

“As Mr. Jefferson says—”

—“Is nothing at all. So little is there, of what you
expect, that, if you were taken up in your sleep; and set
upon the top of the highest hill there, you would think it
a very common affair, when you opened your eyes upon
it. But, stay; I can give you some notion of the Virginia
manner.”

“Their hospitality;” said I, eagerly.

“No---that has gone out of fashion, now---I saw
none of it. I spoke of their travelling manners.”

“Why, I thought that they were the most princely,
and hospitable people in the world.”

“No—just like all others. Among a thin and
scattered population; a stranger, of course, is caught,
and treated as a prince; but that does not deserve the
name of hospitality. It is only a cheap way of purchasing
the news; and seeing the world, at second hand.
Thus, you will find the hospitality of all civilized people,
on the earth, exactly in proportion to the fewness of their
visiters; and the unfrequency of their meeting with strangers.
A courteous old gentleman from the country, the
first half hour after he arrives in the city, will go bare

headed through the street, bowing to every body that he
encounters; but, he soon learns, by the people staring
at him, that he is in a latitude, where such courtesies
are impertinent. Half a century ago, you could not
ride by a Virginia plantation, but, at the hazard of being
made captive, by the slaves; and feasted and stuffed,
man and horse, for a week; but now, you must carry
some other recommendation, than your looks; the appearance
of a gentleman; or the name of a stranger; to
get admittance. I have experienced this; ha!---you
are laughing at the idea of any man getting admittance
with such looks---even to the den of a wild beast.”

“No,” said I, endeavouring to look droll. “Not exactly
that.”

“The devil! Adams, I understand you---such looks,
you think, would be a certain passport there! I should
get in, unmolested, undisputed; Hey? should'nt I? Is
that what you mean?” said he.

“Well, well, Hammond, never mind---it is your fault.
You are constantly inviting such allusions; but, go on
with your story. What were you to tell me of their
travelling manners?”

“In the first place, let me give you a notion of
their taverns. Except in the considerable towns---
which, by the way, are very inconsiderable; they are the
most wretched things upon this continent. All the landlords
are gentlemen---the prices, perfectly genteel; and
their fair, damned genteel; split chickens, smoked over
the coals; and fried bacon, morning, noon, and night.
The business of inn-keeping is held to be rather disreputable
among them; and, as it is hardly yet the
fashion, for a gentleman to stop at a tavern, if he can
get his head into a cow house, or a hay rick, they
make the few that are driven there by hurricanes; or
quartered upon them, by sickness, pay for it shamefully.
[3] I could tell you a thousand instances of their extortion,
impudence and nastiness; but one will suffice.
We had been apprised, for twenty miles beforehand,
in a hot day, of the next tavern—“the major's.” Every
body talked of the major; he seemed to be a sort of

guide post; and quite a rival for the Court House, the
place for reckoning latitude and longitude from, in
every county of Virginia. At last, we arrived—the
house was all open; every window in it. Upon a bench
outside, lay a sick negro; turning white, before our
eyes, with some horrible disease; in the next room, lay
the major, with both feet swathed, sticking out of the
window, and drying in the wind; the whole house
scented with vinegar and burnt rags. Is this the major's
tavern? said I, reining the leader round, gallantly.”

“Tavern!” echoed a peaked face booby, six feet
high, at the door, thrusting his hands, both together
into the waistband of his breeches. “No sir.” But,
seeing that I was about to turn away—“we sometimes
take in gentlemen.”

“O, that is quite enough!” I cried, leaping out—
“that is the form, I take it, of your Virginia licence.”

“I was overcome with heat, and fever; and went into
the house; and laid my head upon the table, sick at the
heart and stomach; with the smell of death, like a reeking
hospital, all about me. They had nothing to eat,
nothing to drink; no oats, nor corn, nor grain, for the
horses—and no servant, except an old woman, to untackle
them; so that, when I went out—by heaven and
earth, there was`nt a piece of the harness, as long as
your arm, hanging together—not a buckle, that she
had`nt unbuckled; nor a strap, that she had`nt pulled
out—for all which, the major charged only two dollars;
and left us to harness our horses for ourselves.”

“Faith!” said I—“it was like pulling the fellow by
the tooth, all round a barber's shop, and only charging
sixpence.”

“Joe Millar;” he replied.

“We were at Harper's ferry, too; at a celebrated
tavern, which I would recommend to all the world,
when they are so hungry, that they can eat anything,
at any price, cooked in any way, without vegetables.
I chose to have some lemonade; and we had just set
down to the table, when the host entered; and, ducking
vehemently, two or three times, informed us that a
gentleman wanted to dine with us, if we were “agreeable;”
as he was in a hurry.”

“Our compliments;” said I; “send him in. We are
very agreeable.”

“A few moments after, a middle aged man, dressed
in black, was shown in; and took his seat, without
further ceremony. I was rather amused with his
countenance and bearing. He sat bolt upright—and,
always dropped his knife and fork, and turned his
head about, with a brisk motion, whenever I spoke to
him. I took advantage of the propensity; and once or
twice, led him into an awkward scrape, by asking him
some question, while he had a bone in his mouth.
He would let his hands fall, as if they were struck
down with a bar of iron, and face me, with the
bone between his teeth, unable to articulate a word;
till he recollected his situation; when he would lean
over the plate, without stirring a finger, and let the
bone fall out of his mouth, into it. I kept my countenance,
and so did my companion; but he well nigh died
of the distress that it caused him, to hide his laughter.
However, I soon found that we had a disagreeable,
thick headed, vulgar fellow, instead of a gentleman,
with us; and I determined to get rid of him,
that we might he alone.”

“At length, he grew quite intolerable—and reached
out his long arm, with a slow movement, in a direction
toward my tumbler of lemonade.”

“I looked at the arm, for some time, wondering
what it was after, and where it came from; and when
I saw the true object, provoked at his stupidity, I turned
my eyes toward his, with an expression, that arrested
him for a moment—he hesitated—his arm was motionless—but
still, on the way to the tumbler.”

“I'll take some o' that are;” said he.

“No you wont;” said I, in the same tone.

“He stared at me, for a moment—dropped his hand;
and drew himself up, much as if I had been guilty of
some violent outrage upon decorum; and my friend,
colouring to the eyes, immediately gave him his own
glass; into which, the brute stuck his tobacco stained
lips, at once, without the slightest ado, as if it had been
the table beer, provided for every guest. In such a

ease. I would, with pleasure, have ordered him a glass
of his own; but I could not---my courtesy is not so complying—suffer
a greasy fellow to thrust his nose into
my glass; or put his paws into my plate. Some soldiers
passed the window, with two or three black musicians.
“Them are niggers,” said the Virginian,
“makes nice sogers.”

“There was a dead silence. I had half a mind to
bring on a quarrel; but I could not. All that I could
say, would`nt stir his blood. How your eyes flash,
William. You would`nt suppose that I impute such
forbearance to all the Virginians. O, no—most of them
are, as they say of themselves, “chuck full `o fight;
fellows of high blood; and damnably true with a pistol
bullet. It is their chief accomplishment; and their only
chance of notoriety. But, let me finish. I looked
my companion in the face. Did you ever see such cold
blooded impudence?” said I—“these are your Virginia
manners—Damn it, I should as soon think of saying to
a man, I'll take your tooth-brush, or your shirt—as
I'll take your tumbler. But nothing would do. The
man would not quarrel.”

“But that is the custom of the country,” said I.
“No,” said he; “you are mistaken. A well bred Virginian,
is generally, one of the best bred gentlemen to
be found. But, the lower order—and nearly all of the
Kentuckians---will take the glass out of a stranger's
hand, then squirt his tobacco spittle upon his boots, and
drink in his face.”

“True—but they mean well—they would have you
treat them, in the same way.”

“Yes, hang them—I remember a case. A fellow
wanted to make me drink a half pint of their detestable
whiskey, raw, once. I remonstrated. There was a
room full. They cursed me for a gentleman—and got
round me; and swore that I should do it. I expostulated;
pretended sickness: told them how I loathed it—
nay, took out my pistols: but, they were not to be intimidated—and—”

“You drank it.”

“No---I tasted it.”

“You did....I would not have believed it.”

“Yes.....but the moment that I did, I dashed
the vessel into ten thousand pieces....leaped into the
corner, and swore, by the Everlasting God, that I
would put a bullet through the first man's heart, that
came near me.---The savages! One advanced---I took
deliberate aim. Fired....and saw the cloth fly from
his jacket.”

“By Gaud!” said the fellow....“gee us your hand....
Do you know what I am? Steam-boat!—run agin me,
run agin a snag....jam up....got the best jack-knife,
prettiest sister, best wife, run faster, jump higher, and
whip any man in all Kentuck, by Gaud!” I stood, stock
still, wondering what the creature meant. But, he did
not suffer me to remain long, in suspense. “Come,”
said he, “come out, if you are a man....rough and tumble.”

“Gouging?” cried one of the gang.

“Look ye!” said I... “scoundrels,” (thankful, nevertheless,
that I had not killed the fellow: for, I can bear
death, better than the upbraiding of my own heart....
anything---even to the spatter of blood in my face....hot
from the heart of a man....lips and nostrils reeking
with it.”)

I shuddered...“Go on....go on,” said I, faintly.

He continued---Hammond, I mean---pardon the confusion
of my narrative.

“Look you,” said I, “I do not well understand you.
You are a large man. I am a small one---yet, you
will not find me so feeble as you suppose, if you all
set upon me together.”

A pause.

“What say you; are you for a quarrel?”

“They all nodded, and began to rub their hands.”

“Well,” said I; “choose any one of your number---
promise me that you will not interfere, any of you,
and there is my pistol.”---Saying this, I discharged it;
and the ball rattled against the chimney, and came
back to my feet.”

One of them took it up. “Hell fire, Nat---it was
loaded---it's hot now, and blackened with powder,”
said he.

“Loaded,” said the fellow---that I had shot—“yes,
that it was”—running his hand into his bosom, and
pulling it out, all bloody---“see there!---loaded---yes---
and we must ha' it out.”

I looked at him, for a moment. “Then you, and I
are to take the tossle?”

“Yes, yes—ready!---ready! all ready.”

“There was a general outery at this—and all present
set up a shout; and flourished their hands and feet.”

“No—not yet—wait a moment. I heardyou speak
of gouging—are we to gouge?”

“Aye, gouge! and bite!—pull hair! and scratch!”—
they yelled all together.

“And strangle too? I suppose,” said I, as unconcernedly,
as I could;---for I thought, if any thing would intimidate
them, it would be such self confidence, and
coolness, in a creature, so diminutive as I.”

“As I said this, I tore off my neckcloth, with a jerk:
the collar, and bosom of my shirt followed.—My
breast—you have never seen it---it is frightful; all covered
with a coarse, black, shaggy hair—and the muscles,
in their agitation among it, look like a living net
work; like exasperated, trodden serpents; rattle
snakes coiling, and writhing.—I had seen more than
one stout heart quake, when I stood naked, from my
waist up, before him; and even this fellow drew back,
for a moment, when I stripped—as from the clutches
of a bear.”

“Come on,” said I—stretching out my arms.

“He shut his eyes, and leaped at me. I sprang aside;
and he struck the wall, so that it stunned him. He
fell; and I waited for his first stirring, to level him
again. I could do it, William Adams—that man never
lived, I do believe, whom I could not bring down,
like a dead man—with a fair blow of my naked fist---
nay—I have felled a horse with it. He arose, and I
gave him two—one at the mark—(the pit of the stomach,
you know,) and one that made his nostrils gush
out like crushed blood vessels. He staggered against the
wall; and stood there, heaving, and retching, for a minute;
with the whiskey, and blood running together, out

of his mouth:—but, the next moment, by heaven! I would
not have believed, that mortal man had such strength;
I was under him, helpless as a babe, stunned; and as I
thought, suffocating; when, suddenly, I felt his great,
strong hand, wreathed into my hair; and the thumb
approaching the socket of my right eye; and digging
about my temple. I remembered, what I had heard;
that was gouging. The thought was madness; death.
God gave me sudden strength. I grappled at his
throat, just as you saw me the other day; and I never
let it go, though several struck at me, and pulled at
my arms---(they were black and blue the next day)
till his swollen tongue lolled out of his mouth---and
the breath rattled in his throat. He rolled from me,
blind, and senseless; deathstruck; and the savages
danced round me. I had conquered their champion;
and they were ready to worship me.”

“This was in Kentucky,” said I---“I have heard of
such things.”

“Yes---the fashion is gone by, in Virginia.”

“You are distressed?”

“Yes.”

“Disturbed?”

“No.”

“You have great command of countenance?”

“Yes.—Wonderful.”

“But not of your hands,” said I, glancing at them;
for, while his face was immoveable as death—vibrating
a little, only in the surface, like some coagulated
fluid; or like molten iron—his fingers, and
hands, and feet, were all convulsed---and shaking.”

“Right,” said he, (holding up his hands)—“right! at
this moment; they feel as if they were wrestling yet,
with the fellow! I have no command over them, at
times—iron cannot deaden them—blades cannot sever
them, when they are sprung; and though my arm were
broken to dust; and they severed at the wrist, I do
believe, that they would fulfil their office; and cling to
the throat that they had griped; instinct with vengeance,
and wrath, like living things. Their hold was never
yet broken—(and I have had their bones broken) after

they were once sprung—but it was too late then, too
late—their prey was throttled; and no mortal help
could release it!”

“But I thought you patient—very patient.”

“I am, under insult, reproach, derision; but not where
wild beasts are upon me; or woman hath need of me.”

“Woman!” said I, “what woman was in that affair
at the prison? that, at the court house? that, on the—

“The duel! you mean.”

He grew calm, all at once. “Let me tell you,” said
he, “how that was.”

“Not now.”

“Yes now; now or never.”

“Well then, never!” said I, unwilling to see him go
mad before my face.

“William Adams, I can read your heart; you have
nothing to fear. You know nothing of my self command.
I can sit and talk to you, calmly, with my
heart on fire; with serpents breeding in my brain. Take
hold of my wrist---put your hand upon my pulse---
look me in the face; (I obeyed him)---now, hear me---
but beware how the joint springs; I have no command
over them; and you were in less danger, to be caught
by the hand of a strong man drowning; or under amputation,
than by mine, when I tell the story.”

“I had been challenged more than once; but I had
generally laughed it off; and I never found any body
fonder of fighting than myself, when the truth was
known; but this man, he whom I shot---softly---softly
---let me begin with the first affair.”

“First then, stay, there is one pleasant affair, that occurred
to me in Virginia, which I must tell you. We
had risen at day light---nay, sometime before, meaning
to make a great day s work--but took a wrong road;
and discovered it, just when we were, man and horse
fainting with fatigue and hunger. After much toil,
we came to a house, lined all about with the devilish
things, called embroidery and painting, done by creatures
that have been brought up at a boarding school; this, of
course, did not much help my appetite, or temper; and,
after getting the whole house about my ears there; we set
off again, and arrived---O! with my blood all on fire---at

a tavern, kept by another gentleman. I could neither
eat nor speak; the fever and ague were upon me;
and all that I wanted upon this earth, was a bed to die
upon. Do you think the infernal rascals did not put me
into a garret; the wall six feet thick, at the least inch;
and whitewashed inside and out, as if they meant to
bake me alive; two windows only in it, exactly east
and west, so that the sun was in it all day long, (if not
all night) with a bed hot enough to roast, any thing
but bed bugs, and they were gasping for breath.
And when I had got fairly into a—dose? no, into a
rare done state; do you think the sons of bitches didn't
send up a negro wench to wake me, with a plate full
of green pears! pears that you could not bore into, with
a gimlet! It is true, by heaven.”

“But, let us have the duel,” said I, laughing; “or
that, which you say led to it.”

“Well then, to begin at the beginning.”

“First, there was a scoundrel here, who pulled out a
pistol, and snapped it in my face. I beat him for it;
and he insisted on satisfaction; and, when I met him, I
had no idea of fighting. I meant to get an apology if I
could, if not, to make one. He had'nt the strength to
level the pistol.”

“But the affair of the court house,” said I.

“O, there was another scoundrel,” he replied, “arraigned
in court for counterfeiting---I was all on fire to join
in the prosecution; but my better feeling prevented me.
I knew that I hated the wretch so bitterly, that, if I
opened my mouth against him, the jurors would probably
acquit him, from a mere principle of humanity.
When the trial was through, the Judge called him up
to reprimand him for having suborned a witness, a
fact that nobody could doubt, who heard the trial.”

“I have been injured,” said the rascal, misrepresented,
your honour.—I am an honest man, your honour,
an honourable man—a man of family.”

(A blunder that he always made—he did not, and
could not, understand the difference between a man
with a family, and a man of family.)

“There are fifty men in court, that know me—call
any of them, your honour—any, I do'nt care whom.”

The Judge was standing upon the step—the scoundrel
below him; and I, just at his back, unseen, unheard;
but my patience could hold out no longer. I
knew that he was one of the most wretched swindlers
that ever lived; and I tapped him gently on the shoulder—“call
on me! I am ready—call on me, I know
you,” said I. He looked round, and turned pale as
death, when he saw me; but willing to brave it out;
“that is the man,” said he, “Albert Hammond; he is the
man that has gone about telling—.”

“I was afraid that he might say some word, which
would make it necessary for me to knock him down,
upon the spot. And, lest he should, I just put my face
close to his. I could not speak; but my lips moved,
and he saw my eyes.”

“He stopped short, gasping for wind, as if he were ready
to give up the ghost; and, the next moment was
dragged out of court, by his own counsel.”

“There was a silence then, for some minutes, as if a
murder had been committed. The judge took his seat,
utterly amazed and confounded.”

“What is the matter,” said one of the bar, to me, in
a whisper, across the trial table.”

“Nothing!” said I—nothing—and then I proclaimed
in a loud firm voice, that William R. Smiley, (that
was the man's name) was the most damnable scoundrel
that walked this earth!”

I then turned, leisurely round; and walked out of
court: expecting every moment, in the awful stillness
that followed, to hear the judge say---“Officer! take
that man into custody.” But he forbore---God
bless him for it! he forbore; and, as soon I had leisure
to think of the outrage that I had offered to the temple
of justice; and to a respectable magistrate, I sat down,
under the remonstrance of a friend, and wrote a letter
of apology, to him.”

“How was it received?”

“Well, I dare say---I heard nothing of the affair afterward;
except that Smiley had publickly threatened
to whip me; and I was warned to take care of knives
and pistols.”

“Were you not afraid?”

“No, not in the least. When men mean to do such
things, they do not threaten; and I knew that he dared
no more face me, nay, with Peter Raymond, Charles
Gordon, and Samuel Saubiere, and half a dozen other
just such cowardly, sneaking rascals at his back, than
he would a starved lion. I had been often threatened;
and never without feeling much more secure than they,
when I looked at them and said nothing. Once, there
was a great six foot fellow came to my office, late in the
evening, with the avowed intention to flog me. (I did
not know of it, till afterward.) That he might be the
better able to do it he had filled himself, up to the eyes,
with whiskey; in which state he was, as I afterward
found, one of the most brutal, blood thirsty fellows, that
ever lived. He had maltreated his wife—abused her;
beaten her; the mother of many children; and, literally,
kicked her out of his doors, and I had undertaken
to make him furnish her with a support. Once, and
with great difficulty, I had reconciled them; but this
was the second time.”

“As soon as I opened the door, I saw in his eyes,
what would have made almost any man tremble—the
purpose of a murderer. Yet, I pointed him, calmly,
to a chair; sat down to my writing; and pretended to
wait for him to speak.”

“He had come on an errand of death; but he dared
not break the silence; he dared not open his lips. If
I could keep this awe upon him; I knew that he would
have no opportunity to work himself into a passion.
Three or four times, he looked up, as if about to throw
himself upon me, at once; but, my apparent unconcern,
and perhaps helplessness; or sense of security disconcerted,
and, probably, intimidated him. It was not
what he had expected; and had prepared himself for. He
had all the business of screwing up his courage, to do
over again; and so, like every man in such a case, was
disconcerted and frightened. I arose, at last; opened the
door, and pointed him out. He obeyed me; by heaven he
did! and it was not till I heard his step upon the pavement—stopping—and
I had bolted the door, that I

was fully sensible of the escape, that I had made.
The sweat started from my forehead, when I came to
think of it. I was all alone; with no living creature;
and no arms near me, then—but it was the last
night that I was unarmed—the very next day, I was
prepared for him, or anybody. He never knew how
he got out of my office, and never will; and, I am
sure, from his stopping, and coming nearly back, to
the door, again, which he found shut against him, that
he had not entirely given up his purpose, till he saw
that he could not perform it. The next day, his wife
came to see me, half frightened out of her wits; but,
when she saw me, and heard me speak; and found that
I was not only a living, but a well man, she could
hardly believe her senses. I was the first, probably,
that ever escaped him, when he was drunk, and in
wrath,”

“How like me!” I exclaimed—“upon my word,
Hammond, you are infinitely less of a hero, than I
thought you!”

“Thank you,” said he, smiling—“you are very
candid; I do not pretend to be a hero. I hope never
to be one. But, I do believe, that the time will come,
when I can bear to be buffetted, and spit upon, patiently.
Nay, I could bear it now—I am sure—”

“If all mankind could look into my heart, and see
the true motive of my forbearance---if they could see
that it was not fear, but courage; not meanness; the
spirit of a dastard, but magnanimity.”

“You knew a young man of our neighbourhood,
named Lewis?”

“Yes.”

“I have been nearer having a case of life and death
with him, deliberately, than with any other human
being---I thought of it for several days. He had taken
advantage of a weak and sickly young fellow,
whom I had known; and beaten him shamefully, once,
with a cowhide.---A friend told me of it. I made up
my mind, upon the spot---to beat him, blind, at any
rate; and, if he should be peevish, or troublesome, to
beat him to death. I went to his house, while the

thought was upon me; but heaven prevented me--I was
a stranger; and, by accident, he happened not to return
till later than usual that night, not, indeed, until I, as a
stranger, had left the house. Before we met, my disposition
nearly changed; and he escaped. Yes! Adams;
there, I was like you. Had I met that fellow, I should
have slain him, I have no doubt; for he was strong,
perhaps as strong as I; and I should not have endured
any resistance.—When I think of that, I tremble. It
was too black, and deliberate, for any man in his
right senses to undertake---may heaven pardon me
for it! It was a deep and dreadful meditation. Many
a poor fellow has been hung for less guilt.”

“Had you not some unpleasant affair once, about a
murderer?”

“A murderer!—no—O, I remember!—yes, yes. No,
it was'nt any matter of seriousness. A man had been
taken up on suspicion of murder; and the people, about
him, were putting questions to him, on all sides. I
went to the miserable creature, and told him not to answer
them—to answer nobody; or nobody but the
judges, who were about to examine him.”

“Am I obliged to answer them?” said he, piteously.

“No—I replied.

“A man who saw me in conversation, with the prisoner,
and was afraid to speak to me, himself, spoke to
another; and he, to another; till, at last, it came to the
ears of the judge.”

“He spoke to me—called me up before him—put on
all his terrours—(how little he knew me!)—there was a
dead silence.”

“You have been talking with the prisoner?” said he,
sternly.

“I have,” said I, rivetting my eyes upon his, to show
him what he was about to encounter.”

“And—and—and what did you say to him?” he continued
more complaisantly.

I repeated it:—adding: “I did my duty, sir—no
more nor less; and I know what my duty is”—(and his
too, I might have added, as well as he did—and better
than he did it.”)

“O, sir,” he replied, graciously, “you were perfectly
right—perfectly!”

“Yes, sir.—So I was. I knew it as well as he did;
and, while I was yet smarting under a sense of the meditated
indignity, that had been offered me—one of the
officers of the court, put his hand upon me, and pushed
me.”

“I glanced at him—his hand fell, as if it had been
struck with a bullet.”

“Stand back,” said he—fiercely, “stand back!”

“Not an inch,” said I—“and hark ye—don't put your
hand upon me, again—if you do—”

“Why!” said he, “what would you do?”

“Do!”—I answered, breathing in his face—“pitch
your carcase down that stair case—that's what I'll do!
—try me.”

“I'm an officer of the court,” said he, shrinking
back, somewhat appalled.”

`The court!—lay your hand on me again; and I'll
pitch you to hell; and the court after you.”

“He smiled—and I believe, began to feel his courage
coming back; but he did not know me. I touched him,
and pointed to the yard below.”

“No,” said he—“I cannot leave the court.”

“I could not wait all day, for an opportunity to whip
him; and I came off; but two or three days after, I encountered
him in the street. I went up to him directly;
but, the moment that he saw me, he turned pale; shook,
from head to foot, and made me, just the apology that
I desired. I knew not what I should have done with
him, else—”

“Were you able to beat him?”

“Beat him!—yes, to death, before he could utter a
cry—but I would, rather have been beaten to death
myself.”

“Is it possible?”

“Possible!” he exclaimed; “you do not know me—I
am all over bone—I can plunge my arm, up to the
elbow, into the side of any man that ever breathed.—
I—”

“But the duel—Hammond—I am weary of holding
your pulse.”

“I am coming to it,” he added, haughtily. “Let go
my wrist, then; I cannot do it at once. I have kept it
off as long as possible. It cost me some preparation;
and as I never yet told it to a human being; and it is
only known, lately, to the relations of the poor fellow—
(his voice faltered—and he turned away his head)—
I—I—let me begin with the first affair—I was shockingly
insulted; but I bore it—till I was no longer master
of myself. We fired across a table; and I found
then that neither of our pistols were loaded:—the powder
singed my face—we were so near. That was the
first. I was young then; but the story got wind, and I
was put upon, the more for it. At last, after two or
three trifling matters, I had one, that had well nigh
been serious. I was in a little country town. A beautiful
girl, who had once been very dear to me, sat working
by my side. A noble hearted fellow stood near
me; and, after some pleasantries, wrote upon a piece of
paper, with a lead pencil: “I promise to pay A. L.
(the girl in question,) one kiss, value received.” She
took it, and laughed—saying, “what shall I do with
it?”

“O, it's negotiable,” said I—“endorse it over.”

“Endorse it! how?”—she asked, eagerly, her blue
eyes winking with pleasure.”

“Give it to me,” said I---and I wrote upon the back,
“pay to Sally (somebody)---about whom the poor fellow
was especially sore, though I knew it not---I had
only heard her name---Sally was a black girl.”

His dark eyes flashed fire:—his lips turned to the
colour of white ashes, and trembled. “Do you know,”
said he, “that that is an insult?”

“I did not,” said I---turning immediately to the
girl, and begging her not to imagine any such thing.”

He was still in wrath,---but turned haughtily, and
said, “very well, sir,” and left the room.

As soon as he had gone, the lady of the house told
me why he had been hurt. I was very sorry, for he
had generous blood in him; and I would not, for my
right hand, have wounded such a nature. But what
could I do? I had said all, that a gentleman could say:

---true, but not all that a man could say. So, I followed
him to his room; told him the whole; and gave him
my hand. His eyes filled. He shook through all his
frame---we were friends from that moment.”

“Of course!” said I, “of course!”

“The next day, he carried my answer to a note, from
another quarter!”

“How was that?”

“Why,---I was hard pushed in company, one evening,
and proposed, merely for talk's sake, that we should
ship off a load of New England girls, with pattern
cards, for the southern market.”

“I had previously been pretty free with the southern
character, freer, it may be, than I should have
been, had I not supposed that all in the room were from
the northern and middle states. But a young man,
whom I had all along supposed to be a Bostonian, at
least, asked me, with something like a sneer---for what
purpose I should ship women to the south? I did not
like his manner, and answered with more bitterness
than I intended—

“To marry gentlemen---if they could be found.”—
Soon after, the company separated; and, after I returned
to my lodgings, I heard, to my astonishment,
that the young man, to whom I had addressed the remark,
was from the south.”

“Then,” said I, “if he have blood in him, I shall
get a note during the day, to-morrow. I said this, because
I knew the Virginia character, prompt for quarrel
or reconciliation; frolick or death—lion-hearted
fellows---with bosoms like a powder magazine---and
excellent targets.”

“I was not disappointed. The note came, with all
due ceremony, asking two or three civil questions,
which I, as civilly, replied to---maintaining, however,
stoutly, all that I had said of the southerners;---but
honestly confessing, that I had no especial allusion to
him, in my remark; for the true reason, that I took him for
a yankee. Not that, had I known him; and he had said
what he did say, I might not have been quite as bitter;
but—I should have been more careful, of course, how

I sported with the feeling of a stranger, among a people,
who were naturally jealous of southern strangers,
and, by whom, they were held in a sort of thraldom;
like proscription and antipathy. What I said, was
perfectly satisfactory. He was glad enough to receive
it, I dare say; and I cannot deny, that I was very glad
that he did receive it. I was kept in suspense, however,
for about an hour, by the gentleman that bore my
answer: the very man who was about cutting my throat
the day before;—but, in that time, I had made up my
mind exactly how to behave—to receive the challenge
—accept it—fight him with broad sword,” and—

“Ah!” said I—“are you a good blade?”

“Very,” was the reply—“are you?”

“Broad sword, tolerable—cut and thrust tolerable—
small sword, very good.”

“Well, how did it end?”

“Oh, just as I tell you—without blood-shed; but hardly
was I well out of that, when I came near cutting
another fellow into mince-meat—or of being cut into
mince-meat, by him.”

“There was to be a ball at the house where I was; and
a young Hotspur from the south, a dwarf too, not taller
than I, but prettily put together; and much younger,
had promised, if timely notice were given him, to run
away from college, or feign sickness, for a day or two,
and take a hand in it.”

“I had been employed, all the forenoon, in writing
notes of invitation; and, at the last, wrote one to him.
“He has read your book”—said one of the girls—“was
delighted with it;—and so, I would have you treat him
as an old acquaintance.” I yielded, and wrote him a
pleasant, familiar sort of a note, just such an one, I
know, as would have brought me from the furthest
end of the earth;—then there was a little dispute about
how his name was to be spelt; and, therefore, I wrote
it half a dozen different ways, punning with it, at every
step. To add to all this—when I bid her look into the
almanack, and see what day of the month, the next
Thursday was—(the day fixed for the ball) so that
there would be no mistake—she looked in, at the wrong

month; and, when I said Thursday, the fifteenth, instead
of appearing, what I meant it should be, a particular
invitation, it looked confoundedly like a hoax; for,
he would find that Thursday was the seventeenth.—
And, finally, before it went out of my hands, some boy
in the family, wrote under my name, “author of so,
and so.”

“The stage coach came in, on the appointed day; but,
instead of the gentleman, it brought me an impertinent
letter, which, alter asking how old, and how large the
writer was, I crushed with my hand, and threw into
the fire; saying, as I did so, that, if I met the boy, I
should box his ears for it;—that I should pass through
the town where he was, on a certain day,—but should
not go out of my way, to meet him.”

“In five minutes, I had forgotten the affair. The
letter was a childish thing; but saucy and affected;—
and so ill a return for my politeness, that, I really
pitied the fellow. On the day appointed, I arrived at the
regular hour in the town where he lived; waited some
time, and was rather in the hope of escaping, without a
scuffle; for which purpose, I had actually thrown myself
upon the bed, to wait for the next steam boat. But
growing tired of the suspense; and, half ashamed of my
own timidity, I went below. There, I found a black fellow
waiting for me, with a note. I read it. It was rather
insulting, but boyish—and, by such a messenger,
of course, I was not bound to take any notice of it—according
to the laws of honour!”

“Where is this man to be found?” said I.

“I will show you,” was the reply.

“Is he alone?”—

“No, sir—Mr. — is with him.”

“Go on.” said I, putting my cane under my arm,
“lead me to the place.”

“The etiquette of duelling, you know, I suppose, left
me several chances of escape. In the first place, the
note was brought, as I have said, by a black fellow;—of
course, I was not bound to answer it;—in the next place,
I was alone; and had no friend in the city to call upon;
and, thirdly, my antagonist was a boy in age, and

strength, compared with myself. But, on the road, I
made up my mind to act with great patience, and deliberation;
and then, if I could get any decent excuse for
it, to beat the principal and second black and blue, till
they challenged me, when I should have the choice of
weapons, and could hack them both at my leisure, with
a broad sword; or run them through, with a small
sword.”

“The black fellow led the way, through a long, dark,
narrow street; and then, into a house; up a dim stair
case; at the top of which, a door stood open, with lights
burning upon the table; several glasses partly filled;
and cigars yet smoking, as if a number of people (whose
voices I heard in the room above) had just left the
table, as I came in.”

“I had scarcely passed through this room, and asked
for the writer of the note, when a tall, handsome looking
young man appeared, saying that he was the friend
of the party; and that, any communication which I
might have to make, was to be made to him.”

“I was very serious. I threw off my surtout, and
laid my cane upon the table, looking at the door, at the
same time, the better to prepare myself for what I was
determined on; to give both of the young gentlemen a
handsome beating, at the peril of my life, though they
were backed by the whole college; and, that I could have
done it, I have no doubt---doubt! No---I could have
whipped the whole college, one after the other, I dare
say.”

“The second appeared a good deal struck at my appearance.
He had expected to see a much younger
man, I am sure; and a countenance, probably, much
less determined.”

“We had some conversation about the last note.”

“Your friend is a boy,” said I—“what excuse can I
offer to society, for cutting the throat of a boy?”

“O, if that be all,” said he, composedly, “I am ready
to step into his shoes!”

“I smiled; and who would not, at such youthful gallantry.
It made my heart feel warm, and beat high,
to look upon him. I had determined to provoke him;

—but I could not—he behaved with such perfect propriety.
We then began to examine the matter; and
found that the whole had been a misapprehension;—and
the result was, that the principal was called in, a
fine, spirited looking young fellow;—and we shook
hands together; drank a glass of wine; and parted, the
best friends in the world!”

“Infinitely better than fighting!” said I—.

—“But”—said he—“William—I—I—”

I looked up. His countenance fell; and his nether
lip worked; and red streaks of passion shot over his
frightfully bald forehead.