The POINT of HONOUR.

A Cure for Duelling,

Shortly after Waterloo had Iwou fought one of the regiments that had been engaged therein gained a most unenviable notoriety for the frequency of duels amongst its offi cers, which there seemed no means of pre> venting. The colonel—a wffnk-miuded man finding himsell powerless, relin quished bis command and returned to Eng land, where, in an interview with the Duke of Wellington, he was severely reprimanded, and—His Majesty had no further need of his services. The Duke having had an interview with the Prince Regent, it was determined that Colonel A , a well known martinet then on half pay, should be sant for, and on his undertaking to care the duelling 'propensi ties of the regiment, be given itscommand. Colonel A readily undertook the task assigned him, it being uuderatood he should be granted a royal indemnity for anything serioua which might happen to anybody else in his endeavours to put a stop to the duelling. On hi« arrival at the garrison he lost no time in making himself acquainted with bis brother officers. He had already laid out his plan of actiou in his own mind, and wax iullr determined to allow nothing to swerve him a htu'* breadth from the path of duty. At the mess table he behaved with studied polite ness to everybody, and his subordinates in dicated that they were greatly pleased with their new commander. He chatted pleas antly with all, fram the senior major down to the youngest eosign, and when ihe cloth was removed regaled them with the latest gossip and. doings of London society. Before they separated for the night, how ever, he told them he had heard of the fre quent duels which had lately taken place in the corps, and it seemed a matter of regret to him that they could not live together in peacs and amity. " However,1 * said he, "if you wis,h to end your quarrels in this manner, I must exact your word of honour now that no duel shall take place without my permitsion being first obtained, as I am your colonel, it is necessary that my authority should be re cognised in all that relates to the honour of tho regiment." A somewhat embarrassing silence ensued, but it was broken by Colonel A , who said: "Don't be afraid that I shall refute your request :on the contrary, I shall only be too pleased to give my permission if, on examining the facts of the case, I find suffi cient reason to think that the applicant's amour proprc baa been wounded, and that a hostile meeting is indispensable." At these reassuring words the young fire eaters were satisfied, and at once gave the promise demanded. On the following morning Colonel A. was rather rudely awakened iioni his slumbers by a loud rapping at his chamber door; and on challenging his early visitors, he was in formed that it was Captain Lord Vellum and Ensign Warbottle, who wished to speak to him on a matter of the gravest importance. " You might have chosen a more con venient hour for your visit, gentlemen," said the colonel, who naturally was rather loth to rise from his bed at five o'clock on the first morning after his voyage. " It is an affair of honour, colonel," was the significant reply ; "and cannot he de layed. We beg you will admit us in stantly." Tne colonel rose and opened the door to the early comers. They were two hand some joung men, who had attracted Colonel as attention the previous evenirjg by the extreme friendliness they had exhibited for each other. They Tespect fully saluted their commanding officer, who at length broka an awkward silence by asking the object of their visit. Ensign Warbottle again raised his hand in salute as he replied :" We have come to ask your permission to fight, colonel!" '' Indeed I exclaimed Colonel A ; " I thought you were great friends." " Yes, colonel, wq have been friends from youth upwards," said Lord Vellum, "and we respect each other eincerely; but we have had a dispute, and our wounded honour must be satisfied." " Then I presume that somSthing serious must have occurred, gentlemen, to make the only remedy for it a recourse to the pistol!" "It is indeed serioua," replied Ensign Warbottle ; " and it is this : After you had left the table last night, we chatted over what you told us about the doings in London lately; and I remarked I should like to be there, riding at the head of a troop of Life Guards, and encorting the .Prince Regent, with my silver helmet glittering in the sun, and my drawn sword in my hand. Where upon Lord Vellum said with a sneer that I was a feather-bed soldier, and that a leathern helmet would be quite good enough for such as I. I took no notice of this remark, but I was annoyed and excited ; and whcti be further asserted that the officers of the Life Guards wore brass helmets, human nature could stand it uo longer, and I gave him the lie. He retaliated by striking me on the face—an insult. Colonel A , which justifies me, I think, in demanding a hostile meeting." The last words were said in a manner which admitted of only one meaning, and the two young officers exchanged glances of mutual hatred and defiance. "It is indeed grave, geutlemen," senten tiously remarked the colonel. "The helmets of his Majesty's Life Guards are neither silver nor brass, but white metal lacquered with silver gilt; but this informa tion will not, I presume, alter the position of affairs. Do you still wish to fight the matter out ?" "Certainly, sir!" exclaimed the two officers. " Very well," replied the colonel gravely ; " far be it from me to interpose any obstacle to your meeting, gentlemen ; but this duel must be a serious one, as befits so important a question as the Life Guards' helmets, and not an affair resulting in a mere scratch, a3l am given to understand is generally the case in these mess quarrels. Remember that you are British officers, andnot Spanish bravoes, and that the honour of a British officer can only be vindicated by the death of his opponent. Go, gentlemen, and fight your duel; and I will meet the survivor on his return. The yonng men saluted the colonel and retired. Three hours later Colonel A went down into the parade ground to inspect the regiment, and he was surprised to see both Lord Vellum and Ensign Warbottle amongst the officers who approached to give their morning salute. The latter had his arm in a tling; and to the stern inquiry of Colonel A——as to whether the duel had taken place, he replied, with a forced smile lighting up his face :—" Yes, Colonel; his lordship has given me a nasty scratch in the arm." "A scratch in the arm," replied the colonel contemptuously, " and do you call that fighting, gentlemen —do you call that fighting ; And for so important a question as the helmets of His Majesty's Life Guards;! Bah! it is nothing ! This matter must be

fought over again, under pain of instant dismissal from the service if my order be disobeyed 1" "But———, began Lord Vellum, at tempting to express his satisfaction at the reparation his woundedhouour had received. " But me no &ii£j,gentlemen ("exclaimed the colonel angriily. "I have the Prince's instructions on this point, and it is for you to vindicate your honour in a proper manner, or retire disgraced from His Majesty's service." IMb alternative was not one to be thought of; and it need scarcely be laid that the young fire-eaters chose rather to fight again than be cashiered. The duel was fought again, and this time Lord Vellum was shot through the body— a wound which laid him on a sick-bed for two months. During thia long period many quarrels had taken place at the mecs-table, some of which the colonel had settled by acting as "arbitrator;" and others stood over for his permission to fight—a permission he refused to grant until the result of Lord Vellum's illness should become known. In the meantime Colonel A communicated with the Duke, from whom he received explicit commands to carry out the matter to the bitter end, as the only means of putting a stop to what was becoming a world-wide ecaudal. Lord Vellum wan most carefully attended during his illness by his " friend and enemy," iSnsign Warbottle, to whose efforts he not only owed his life, but was enabled at the end of two months to take a short walk every morning. His recovery proceeded rapidly, and one morning as the two friends were walking together, they suddenly found themselves face to face with Colonel A " Ah, gentlemen, good morning," ex claimed the latter, " I am delighted to see his lordship out again, especially as it will bow enable you to finish your ' affaircd? fionneur' in a more satisfactory manner." The young officers, scarcely believing their own ears,were for a time strockdumb with astonishment, and they gazed at each other and at the colonel with looks of be wilderment and surprise. " You see, gentlemen," said the colonel, gravely, " that this question of the Life Guards' helmets is of such importance that I wrote to the Duke of Wellington on the subje t, and I have here his Grace's ordeis that the duel shall be renewed again and again until the life of one has been forfeited," As he spoke. Colonel A——drew from the breast-pocket of his coatee a large letter, bearing on its envelope the words " On His Majesty's Service " in large, black letters, and in one corner the notice in red ink, ■' Very urgent," "But," said the young ensign, "his lordship has not recovered yet ; besides " When oneTcan walk," interrupted the colonel, •'one can also fire off a pistol"; and it is not conducive to the interests and dignity of the service that so important a question as the equipments of His Majesty's bodygnard should any longer be left unde cided." The two young officers, who had cemented their freidnahlp anew during the period of illness, here took each other's hands, and gazed into each other's face. Colonel A— turned away to hide his emotion, but, brush ing the signs of weakness away from hi 3 eyes, he turned once more to the young officer?, and said : —" Gentlemen,! have had orders to supersede you in the regiment, and I am only to waive the execution of these orders on condition that the duel is renewed. Your honour is in your own hands, choose your own course. I leave you to decide, gentlemen, and for the present, adieu." So saying, the colonel left the two friends to decide their own fate. They decided to consult their brother officers on the subject, and to be guided by the general opinion. This turned ont to be in favour of another fight, and they once more proceeded to the place of meeting, each mentally resolving not to injure the other, bnt each exchanging letters and por traits for their friends. The fatal weapons were discharged, and Ensign Warbottle fell to the earth with a shot buried in his heart. The grief of Loid Vellum knew no bounds, as he had been led to believe that the balls had been withdrawn from the pistols, He through himself on the inanimate body of his friend, and could with great difficulty bo removed therefrom. At length he was con ducted to the house of a married officer; and from there he wrote to colonel A , tendering his resignation, and reproaching him with the death of his friend. The same afternoon, Colonel A as semblsd the officers, and addressing him self to those whoae applications to fight were in suspension, declared himself ready to gTant one more permission on the same condition as the other, viz., that for "honour's sake" the combatants should fight to the death. In the paute which ensued, one officer after another saluted the colonel respectfully, and then retired as silently as he came, leaving him alone iv tiie mess-room, and master of the situation. It was a rude lesson which these officers received, but it fully accomplished its pur pose, and from that day to this duelling has been almost unknown in the British army. —" The Prize Winner."

A New Burglar Alarm.

A sueglae in the city of Brooklyn was dealt with the other day—or, to be more accurate, the other 'night—in a manner ■which adds a new terror to the many risks which members of this exciting profession have already to run. It appears that this man rought wealth in the chamber of a maiden lady whose want of that posses sion, added to her carious unattracti veuess, had kept her single for something more than two score years, She always, it seems, went thiongh the ceremonial of searching her chamber for a possible burglar, but had always found her iuvestigation unrewarded. On a certain night, however, she was awakened by a strange presence in her room. She watched, and discovered that the IODg-songht burglar had at length arrived, and \v«« at «hat moment cautiously searching the pocket of her dress. Know ing how little was there discoverable, she remained quiet; but when presently he knelt down with his back to the bed, in order to examine the contents of a drawer, she sprang from her couch, seized him by the hair, and pressing the handle of a tooth brush to his forehead, called on him to surrenderor vowed she would fire. Mistak ing the tooth-brush—which he could feel but not sea—for a revolver, he capitulated, agreeing to any terms, if she would spare his life and liberty. "Determined," the journal which relates the incident says, " both to punish and reform the malefactor, the lady gave him the choice between marrying her or having his brains blown out." He consented to the former painful alternative. These little matters are speedily arranged in 'the States, and the marriage was solemnised almost straight way. The American journal detects in this a new form of protection for house holders against burglar*. The presence of such a lady and the fear lest capture might involvomarryingher, according to precedent, ought to deter tha most recklera felon.

A NAUGHTY GIRL'S DIARY.

[By the AuTnoE of "The Bad Boy's Diaby."]

No. I—Shb Wants to Know,

I WOULD never thout of keeping a diary only I read George Hackett's, and that made me think of it, cause everyboddy was unjust to him like they are to me. I am told several times every day that I am a naughty girl, so I sympathize with Georgie being called a bad boy. I don't think I am naughty, because I want to knpw things and ask a fue ques tions to find our. How am I ever to be come intelligent when I grow ap if I don't inchoir about things that I do not under stand ?

I have no diary, because this is not my birthday to get a present of one, but I have borrowed my brother Fred's expeuce-book, which he got new yesterdy, and is only ritten on one page yet. i have torn out the page, but I am much surprised he pays io much -one dollar fifty cents fot ten cigard—a perfeck shame, when Maud Eveljn, my doll, Deeds a new dress the worstest way, an' my sister Mary, who is groan up, is tezing papa for a sbautilly lace par'uol, six dollars for a pair of low-cut summer shoes—he must have his things the latest style.be is such a swell 1 One dollar twenty ceDt3 for ice-cream last evening. My goodness, I wonder if Fred eats six saucers of ice-cream when he goes to the confeckshunners; I must ask him, cause I want to know. Twenty five cents to treat Judge White to a stick of peppermint. Mow, that is too high. I can get one anywhere for a penny ; the candy maa must have cheted him. I would tell him how he is cheted only he would find out I had borrowed kis expence book. If I keep still he will know he has dropped it out of his pocket. 1 expeck he will be sorry about losing it; such a lovly picture lying between the leaves, as hand some as she can be ; not anyone I Know either; must be one of those girls he left behind him when he come home from com mencement yesterday, I am dying to ask him who she if, only I daren't at present. He is veiy much offended with ins just now, becaufe the key of my bureau hap pened to fit his trunk, an' when he went op street to call ou Miss Garner I wanted to know what was in it, if he had brought me anything, an' I got so deeply interested in reading hi 3 pile of letters I forgot it was supper-time, an' he came in bis room, and snatched one away, an' called me a horrid, horrid, impertinent little girl. I wish he had not snatched it away so soon. It was from Miss Sallie Garner, m/ sister Mary's friend, he had just been to call on. I was t-irpris'd it began " dear, dear Fred," an' I wanted to know what was up she should call my brother "dear, dear Fred;" but he was very angry, an' the supper-bell wrong twice, bo I ran down and got Maud Evelyn, an' put her in her high chair beside mine. We had fride chicken, cause Fred had come home, an' Maud Evelyn et so much she burst her stoiiiniick iv the place where she cries; so when folks were most done etingl pulled his sleeve and whispered very loud : '-Fred, Fred, I want to know what Sallie Garner is going to think of, an' give you an answer when you come home. Is it a puzzle ? Will she get a prize ?" Now, I want to know what made his ears get red ; an" he spoke very quick to papa in a loud tone. I want to know what made Mary giggle and answer for him, " Yes, doubt less she would get a big prize;" an' Fred said : " What is the little -impleion talking about ? he did not know; if I didn'c take care Maud Kvelyn would break her nose leaning forward so far,'' an' I guess he tilted her oh air on the sly, for the fell an' knocked a piece out of her forehead; so she cride so 1 had to take her away from the table.

Yes.l 'spose lam a naughty girl. Every boddy says so. Fred says I came Into the world on purpose to get p^ple into hot water, but I don't member getting any peple into water but Maud Lilian Harold, an' she deserved it; she got herself so dirty the time I let her fall in the gutter when we were out walking with our best things on, an' the poor cat which I wanted to see if she could swim, an' Maud's hair came out most as bad as poor kitty's but she did not suffer so much, I guess ; an1 now Fred calls her the ball-headed belle of Babyrille to pUgueme. That Fred is a reg'lar teze. He gives me no peace of my life. He declares I have been a naughty girl ever since tbe day 1 was born. I guess he'd a been,too, if he had been in my place. I'm awful sorry for babies. I 'spose I ought to purtend I 'member 'bout the day I was born like they write in books. Well, then, I'd better make up suthin' about it.

I am 7 years old ; my name Is Dolly Mug gins. I 'member I was mad as hop* because my name was Muggins, I 'member I flew out of temper at once when, 'fore I had even taken my bonnet off or been incited to sUy, my papa remarked skornfully, •' Only another girl 1" Only a girl indeed 1 Did he expect a boy a'so? did he want twins ? Only another girl ! Then thero were more girls in the family ? T/iai upset me, 'cause I knew I'd have to put up with their made-over dresses—'course I was cross about that, an' I Equalled like blue blaze*. I didn't fancy it, nuther, when they all crowded around me as if I was a show— without the !ea<t regard for my feelings-talking about my looking like this one an' that one; an' Mrs Nobbe, the nurse, deciding it by declaring over and over that I " was the very living image of my pa— she had never seen a livioger imnge of nobody than I was of my pa !" which made mewink my eyes open an' take a good long squint at the only man in the room. Great horrors ! did I really look like that ? Did I have a iionun nose ? Was I bald headed, with a gray mustache, an' a mote on my lef cheke?

1 tried toput my hand up fen find the mole, but I only stuck my fist in ray i, an' then I skwalled agen. After all the-e triles they began to talk 'bout namiug me ; eranm* said it was her turn to name the baby—it must bo Dorothy, af er her grandmother. I kicked an' screamed, but it did n> good. "We cm call her Dolly," suggested mam ma. That was not co bad ; l wood have stoped crying only Nobb< jolted me so bard on her goee I was afrade I should turn into gelly an' be et for supper. It is not nice to be born a baby; denide the power of speche at an age when they want to tell where the pin is stikksng in them ; denide the power to walk when they can't get ont their cradle if the honse is on fire—is it any wunder they are naughty ? If I ever buy a truly baby, I will pick out one can walk an' talk; do you catch on las Fred says, but it is slang,

I have sevral children, not really, you know. Maud, Evelyn, an1 Dorothea are mos' groan up. Dorothea is an authres, who in her diary, too; she is not pretty—her nose is broke ; this is sunthin1 she wrote to-day :'• this is sumer; the days are'very long now. I like sumer the best. My mama, Miss Dolly Muggins, is butiful ; she has blue eyes an' golden hair, my uncle Fred has come homo from collidge ; he ia perfeckly horabel to dolls. I tremble in my shoes when he is in the room. He wood jas' as soon break my teg as eat his supper; las' winter he paid all lady clara

bel's hair out, and blio has been baited ever since. She will never marry now she is bald."

I guess I wil>. atop making up in my diary about when I was a baby, 'cause I hear Fred coming up stairs, an I'm afraid he'll see his expence book if he comes in my room. Sometimes I wish I was not a naughty girl. I wish I were a boy. I wish I were groan up. Mary is groan up ; she is seven teen, aud can sit up till papa an' mama go to bed. I think parents are tiranical that make children go to bed at half-past eight. I wish people would anner my questions when I want to know things, an' not call me trnbblesome an' naughty 'cause I asks them. They don't anser half the time; it is very rude, it seems to me. To-day I asked Fred what made him think Miss frici'was as old as his grandmother, I thought of it because she called on my sister Mary and looked at Fred so much all the time, and her cheeks were ever so red, got a bit like grandma's. I was in a corner playing with my best doll, Maud Evelyn, so I hollered over an' asked him out loud, 'cause I wanted to know, tie wouldn't tell me, an' Mary Baid, " Hush up, you impertinent child I" and as soon as ever Miss Price went away, which she did pretty soon, she began to giggle, an' Fred he came orer an' boxed my ears an' kicked Maud Evelyn clear acrost the room, an' then he called me a baby 'cause I cride. He said I was the awfullest naughty girl any family was ever pestered with; he jus' torments the life out of Maud avelyn an' me. He expects to be home from collidge all the time now—such a life as we shall lead 1 Poor, poor Maud, her eye came out, but he only looked in her head and laughed in the moat hartless manner; he said she had no brains, only two little lump* of lead to make her eyes go; bnt he guessed she had as much brains as his little sister who was always asking the right question in the wronij place. He has no respeck for his little i-inter or her aolls nuther. Las sum mer he hung Grace Fitzgerald head down from the lint of an apple tree so I couldn't reach her; it rained an she was utterly ruined; that was the night just before dark, Mary wa9 playing croquet with Mr Jeuks. the minister's son, and it began to sprinkle and he said, " Hadn't we better go in 1" an' they went in the parlor, and after awhile I asked him, 'cause I wanted to kaow, if he_ came in when the shower began, an' he said, " Yes,'of course," so then I said I wondered why my sister was always saying lorn Jenks didn't know enouf to come in when it rained. lam glad Mary did sot happen to hear me, 'cause she might fancy that was the reason he has not called here since.

I muss stop riling and put Maud Evelyn to bed. I don't see how the poor child is to sleep with one eye opeD, but she cannot shut the one Fred goggled out when he threw her across the room. lam afrade she will pass a restless night. I think I had better give her one ot those morfine pills in the little box mamma took when ehe was sick, only I cannot get it without going in her room. She does not dre me I am sitting up alone at this hour nursing my sick doll, but dolls must be set up with when they are il, an' Maud Evelyn is dangerously il with her eye, her head akes very bad. I'm afrade X shall have to crepe in an' get the box. I shall have to take the morfine pill myself, cause her mouth won't^lruly open, an' then I guess I will sit up all night, for fear she will go out of her head. I want to know how dolls look when they are out side of their heads.

I asked Mary to-day why she always walked down to the gate with Mr Slicer when he went away on evenings. She would not tell me, but jus' harried away' so I shall have to hide behind the ever green tree close to the gate, an' find out for myself. I wood go now, only I expect he has goae home by this time, an Maud Evelyn is rely too il to spare me.

The Other Sort of Swindler.

Theee were sis or eight of us in the smok ing car as the train was running down to West Point from Atlanta, and everything was lovely until the seventh man got on at a small station. Be had no sooner entered the car than he looked fixedly at the man who had b«en telling us snake stories, and directly he walked up to him and called out: " Ha I you infernal swindler, I've found you at last f" " Who's a Bwindier 2" "You are !" " I never saw you bafore 1" "You're a liar, and I'm goiDg to pound §1S worth of cash out of you !" it was presently discovered that he re cognised the snake story man as a fruit tree agent who had sold him some grape vines which did not show up, and he was spitting on his hands and making ready to do the pounding, when the other re marked : "My dear fellow, I insist upon it that you are mistaken. I was never in the fruit tree business, and I never swindled you oat of 518." 111 say you did." " Never! Instead of swindling you out of §1S oa grape vines, I am the man who charged you §16 too much for a sewiDg machine, and here's your money." " Well, now, I come to look more closely at you, I believe you're right,'" eaid the seventh man. "Of course I'm right," growled the other, as he counted out the money, " and I warn you to be a little more careful in future. I have a reputation to sustain, and grape vine swindles are not in my line. Here's your $16, and now I think you ouetht to apologise!"— "Detroit Vice Press."

A Story of the Commune in Paris.

Dueihg the siege of Paris the people universally fell into poverty. On its ter miiist'on, a certain landlord, unable to get his rente, determined to eject all the de faulters. He sent an order to his hvissler to turn them out and sell their goods. One was a widow with two children. Her husband had nied of a cold caught in the trenches. Iv her grief the poor woman had vowed she would never be married again, and as a soi t of testimony to the truth of her intention, she had nad their walnut bedstead sawn in half. When the time came for the expulsion, the proprietor arrived, and seeing the heat piece of furni ture spoiled, upbraided her with ruining his goods. She found hospitality elsewhere, but the loss of the old home and household gods turned her brain. The insurrection of the Commune broke out. She was one of the first to rush to the scene and to join the insurgents. She and her children were seen wherever there was peril. She mounted the barricades, an* planted the flag of the Commune in the teeth of the besiegers. In one of the last days of the defence her eldest son was separated from her in the struggle, and the youngest was killed at her feet. Frantic, she seized the body of the child, and, springing up a barri cade, hurled it upon the bayonets ot the soldiers, then tearing open her dress she cried wildly, •• Kill ma! Kill me !" She fell over the stones, but was not dead. Another of these slats," cried the youDtr officer in charge ; " fioiah h«r I" JUUDB

AN UNEQUAL MATCH., One evening, at a social gathering, Paul Dolan drank more wine than was his wont, although not sufficient to intoxicate him | but his blood was heated, his heart beat more quickly, and his tongnu could spring to the use of words which he might never have used at another time, la the course of the evening he had a slight trouble with Charles Fhinney, all growing out of a clear and simple misunderstanding in the beginning. Phinney told his friend that he lied—gave him the lie direct whereupon Dolan struck him in the face a blow sufficient to stagger him. Mutn.il friends immediately separated them ; bat the matter could not end there. Both men stood high in the social scale; Dolan was an accomplished artist, and Phinuey was a lawyer with an extensive and growing practice. As the arlist was in the act of putting on his overcoat preparatory to going home it was away in the wee sma' hours o' the morning — a gentleman stepped up and handed him a note, Paul opened it, and, as he expected, found it to bo a challenge j and as he was to give his answer, and state bis conditions, to the bearer of the cartel. The challenged man paused and reflected. At length he looked up and said, " you .will act as Charles Phinney's second?" '• Ye»." " Then you will convey to him these as my conditions : -He and you shall ba at my house to-morrow morning at 9 o'clock, and take breakfast with roe. ;; uch business had better be done in as coinfurtable con dition aa possib'e. We will eat breakfast, and then all further preliminaries shall be arranged—and, I trust, satisf lCtorily." It was a strange arrangeuunt; but the messenger at length absented to it and took his leave after which JL/olan took his hat and went home, where he iouud his wife sitting up, waiting for him. '•O, Paul,' 1 she cried, cliuaing to him,' and kissing him ; " I could not sleep. A terrible fear had come to me that you had met with a dreadful accident. O ! thank heaven you are cafe !" On the following morning, at nine o'clock, Charles Phinney and his second appeared, and were conducted into the t.reakf ist-room Where they foundDolan'B b> auuf ulwife, and three bright children, gathered, ready for the matin meal. When they saw this, they wonld have retreated if tney could have done the thing politely or even decently. However, they sat down, aud Mi s Dolan, who had no idea of the true situation, but supposed the gentlemen had called on buai less, made herself so agretat-le aud enter ;aioing that they were very soon cot only eeling entirely at home, but were ;horoughly enjoying themselves. At the conclusion of the meal, Dolan went round and kissed his wife, and then retired to the dressing-room with his two friends. " Well," said Phinney, with a perceptible show of uneasiness, " I have taken break last. with you as yon desired ; and I leave you to judge whether I came willingly or not. However the breakfast is over, and now I would refer to the bnsiaess of the occasion. When and where, and with what weapons do you intend to give me a meeting }" "Charles, there was an unpleasant passage between us last evening, in which we were both gravely at fault, for which I am sorry with all my heart. You have seen fit to challenge iue. I have brought you hither to show you what you must do before I will go out and deli berately stake my life against yours. Yon are a bachelor—alone in the world. When you can present me to a i rue-hearted, loving, faithful, and loyal wife, and three healthy, blooming, happy children—all looking to you for guidance aud support— when you can do that, I will tniuk farther of accepting your challenge, bat not until then. This disparity in our respective domestic positions is too great. Chailes, go and ask my wife —" " Enough ; enough !" broke in the other. You are right, Paul, I might seek redress at the hands of a man who had offended me ; but I will no: fire at the husband of that wife and tne father of tho>e children. I ivas ia fault —I own it. Let us be iriends again." And friends they were from that time ; and both of them were more careful ever after in the restraining of their passions,— so that both were bailor and happier.

Scene in an English Court.

A FEW years since a man of high respecta bility was tried oa the charge of forging a will, in which it was discovered he had an indirect interest to a large amount. Samuel Warran, the celebrated author of the "Diary of a Physician," etc., was assao ciated with the prosecuting attorney, and the case was tried before Lord Denman, The prisoner being arraigned, and the formalities gone through with, the prose cutor, placiog hia thumb over the seal, held up the will and demanded of the prisoner if he had seen the testator sign the instru ment, to which he promptly answered he had. "And did you sign it at his request, as subscribinz witness ?" "I did," " "Was it sealed with red or black wax V " With red wax." " Did you see him seal it with red wax 2" " I did." *' Where was the testator when he signed and sealed this will ?" " In his bed." " Pray, how long a piecs of wax did he use V " About three or four inches long." " Who gave testator the piece of wax?" "1 did." " Where did you get it?" " From the drawer of his desk." *' How did you light that piece of wax V " Wiih a candle." " Where did that candle come from ?" " I got it out of a cupboard in his room." " How long was that piece of candle!" " Perhaps rour or five inches long." 11 Who lit that piece of candle!" " I lit it." "With what?" "With a match." " Where did you get that match!" " On the mantel-shelf in the room." Here Warren paused and fixed his large, deep-blue eyes upon the prisoner. He new the will up above his head, his thumb still resting on the seal, and said, in a solemn, measured tone: " Now, sir, upon your solemn oath, yon saw testatorsign that will- sign in *"s ff— at his request you signeditasasobscnoing witness-you saw Sim seal i«--withi red wax—apieceofwax two. three, or four menes long ;he lit that wax with a pi^ of candle which you produced for him bom a cup board ; you lit that candle Xu° which you found on the mantel-snen. " Once'more, sir, upon your solemn oath, ~ you did ?" •• My'lora," exclaimed the triumphant ftttsrnty, " it's <*• toaftr."

STAR SATURDAY SUPPIasMENT, AUGUST 11, 1883.

11