“‘Time enough, Tim,’ said my father; ‘close the door, for I haven’t finished my breakfast.’
“Now, the real truth was, that my father’s attention was at that moment withdrawn from his own concerns by a scene which was taking place in a field beneath his window.
“But a few minutes before, a hack-chaise had stopped upon the roadside, out of which sprang three gentlemen, who, proceeding into the field, seemed bent upon something, which, whether a survey or a duel, my father could not make out. He was not long, however, to remain in ignorance. One, with an easy, lounging gait, strode towards a distant corner; another took an opposite direction; while a third, a short, pursy gentleman, in a red handkerchief and rabbit-skin waistcoat, proceeded to open a mahogany box, which, to the critical eyes of my respected father, was agreeably suggestive of bloodshed and murder.
“‘A duel, by Jupiter!’ said my father, rubbing his hands. ‘What a heavenly morning the scoundrels have,—not a leaf stirring, and a sod like a billiard-table!’
“Meanwhile the little man who officiated as second, it would appear to both parties, bustled about with an activity little congenial to his shape; and what between snapping the pistols, examining the flints, and ramming down the charges, had got himself into a sufficient perspiration before he commenced to measure the ground.
“‘Short distance and no quarter!’ shouted one of the combatants, from the corner of the field.
“‘Across a handkerchief, if you like!’ roared the other.
“‘Gentlemen, every inch of them!’ responded my father.
“‘Twelve paces!’ cried the little man. ‘No more and no less. Don’t forget that I am alone in this business!’
“‘A very true remark!’ observed my father; ‘and an awkward predicament yours will be if they are not both shot!’