DUELLING EXTRAORDINARY.
The contemplated single-stick encounter between Colonel ARCHER-SHEE and Mr. PEMBERTON-BILLING recalls to mind a ludicrous affair which actually happened some years ago in a foreign city which I will here call Killemalivo.
Mr. Alec McTavish, a Briton many years resident in that fair capital and editor of the only English newspaper, had taken up stout verbal cudgels on behalf of the Americans, who had been viciously attacked in the columns of a local "daily." The United States of the North, in its capacity of "special" to the entire American continent, comes in for plenty of abuse when a new revolution is about to be perpetrated.
The strife had waxed fast and furious and eventually had taken on a personal tone, the editor of La Muera accusing the editor of the English paper of being "that lowest of all living things—a Texan." It will be remembered that in times gone by the State of Texas decided to desert its Latin parents and roost under the shadow of the eagle's wing, thereby earning for itself prosperity and an evil reputation—in certain quarters.
McTavish's editorial reply was a gem of satire and displayed an intimate knowledge of the antecedents of the rival editor.
At that time duelling was still prevalent, and it was not many days before the editorial sanctum of The Tribune was honoured by the visit of two officers in full-dress uniform.
The eventual outcome of their visit was that Mr. McTavish found himself pledged to fight a duel with a man who was, among other things, a first-class pistol shot and exceptionally expert with the "florette," all of which McTavish was not.
The affair looked particularly unpleasant—to McTavish, who was short, fat, and by no means young. But the dignity of the foreign population as represented by the editor of The Killemalivo Tribune must of necessity be upheld.
Faced by this quite unusual difficulty, McTavish bethought him of his old and tried friend, General O'Flynnone, an Irish-American of many years' residence in the Latin Americas. No one seemed to know his real name, and the title of General had come to him from his last place.
The General was delighted at the turn of events, agreed to be McTavish's second, and promised to get him through the affair with a whole skin and no loss of honour.
As the challenged party McTavish had choice of weapons, which was the crux of the situation, as the General pointed out.
Among the Killemalivo aristocracy the favourite weapons were the duelling pistol and the "florette," or rapier. The "pelado," or lower orders, preferred the "lingua de vaca," which means literally "cow's tongue," a nasty-looking knife of no mean proportions.
As O'Flynnone explained, the duel would have to be fought with "killing weapons"; nothing else would satisfy the bloodthirsty editor. Meanwhile he would think on the matter, and he advised McTavish to do likewise.
The following were the most unpleasant days of his life, as McTavish confessed afterwards. He was not a "conscientious objector," but he had no pressing wish to exterminate his opponent, as that would have necessitated a sudden and forcible exile from the land of his adoption; still less did he fancy an early demise in the interests of his paper.
Meanwhile the General visited the rival editor's seconds and arranged for a meeting in his own rooms to discuss final conditions.
O'Flynnone's rooms contained, among other things, a collection of curious and ancient weapons. The walls were decorated with all sorts and conditions of strange and barbarous instruments of slaughter; Zulu assegais, Afghan knives and Burmese swords hung in savage array.
The meeting took place on the following Sunday afternoon. The officers greeted the General agreeably enough, but saluted McTavish with the stiffness that the occasion called for.
"Well, Señores," commenced the General, after depositing his visitors in the most comfortable chairs, "to business. Mr. McTavish, as you will admit, has the choice of weapons."
The officers nodded assent.
"This gentleman," continued O'Flynnone, "comes of that most noble and warlike race—the Scotch. Fiercest of fighters, although they do not sometimes look it, the warriors of Scotland alone among all nations withstood the ravages of the conquering English. I feel sorry, very sorry for the 'caballero' whom you have the honour to represent."
The pause which followed was most impressive. The General's air was suggestive of dire things, as with dramatic suddenness he produced from beneath the sideboard two enormous double-edged battle-axes, which careful polishing had made to shine as new.
"These," said he, "are the weapons which Mr. McTavish has chosen—weapons of men, such as they use in his own country," he continued, brandishing one of them savagely. "And the fight will be on barebacked horses, for such is the custom of the Scotch."
The duel did not occur.