THE RENCOUNTER.
“Shame! Where is thy blush?”
How degrading to human nature! Worse than the brute is he who endeavours to draw another into a contest!
An instance occurred a few days since of a battle between two persons, who (as I withhold their real names) I shall distinguish by the titles of Willet and Martin. Willet had long been a visitor at the house of the other, for what purpose I know not; but be it what it may, his intentions, no doubt, were honourable. Martin has an amiable sister, and report says, the heart of Willet has been smitten by her charms; and when time permitted, and she consented, he intended to have made her his bride.
His visits, it seems, were not very pleasing to the brother of the young lady, who took an opportunity of loading him with a series of epithets consisting of “mean, low,” &c. &c. To these Willet scarcely deigned a reply. When Martin found the object of his malice removed by his vile insinuations, he challenged him to fight. He was forced to comply, though much against his inclination, and both quitting the house, he found himself instantly attacked in the open street, where a scene ensued that would have made the unprincipled savage, were he present, blush with indignation.
In short, the challenger was worsted; he was not a match for his antagonist, though he had the better of him in years. His mother and sister saw the conflict from a window, and endeavoured to restore him to reason, but without effect; he was quite transported with excess of passion.
Martin was the aggressor, and his punishment was just. When he became sensible that he had suffered sufficiently, he was conveyed home, without enjoying the pleasure of beholding that bright luminary, the sun, the cuffs he had received having entirely closed up the organs of sight; to all appearance, a few more would have made him an inhabitant of the world of spirits; but by a lucky turn of the wheel of fortune, they were restrained.
THEODORE.
New-York, Oct. 12, 1796.