“‘Really,’ says the doctor, ‘I can’t possibly take upon me to say, precisely. ’Tis a bad case, and I don’t apprehend that you can be perfectly recovered under three months.’
“‘Three months! Oh the devil! what am I to do? Three months!—when I had just found it out!’
“‘Found what out, jewel?’ said his mother, who was sitting by his bedside.
“‘The cause of my failing to-day, mother. The wings were right, but I forgot one thing.’
“‘And what was that, Felix?’”
“‘The tail, mother! If I’d not forgot me tail, I could have flew to Ameriky and back again!’”
Now that what is called, or miscalled the “Code of Honor,” is falling into desuetude in regions of the country where it was once considered binding, the following laughable burlesque upon the manner in which modern duels are sometimes brought about, and conducted, will doubtless, as the newspapers say, be “read with interest:”
“William Singsmall, Esquire, thought proper to say something very severe about somebody abroad, when the expression was taken up by Mr. Flea, a friend of the insulted party, who happened to be within reach of William Singsmall, Esquire. Mr. Flea waited on Mr. Singsmall, who refused to retract. Ulterior measures were hinted at, and the following series of hostile notes and messages ensued:
I.