In almost every case of duel, it is not the wish to kill, or injure, but to vindicate our wounded pride or honour, that urges us to satisfaction; therefore should every fight be under the direction of a prudent and honourable friend, who will neither carelessly throw away the life entrusted to his charge, nor compromise its honour. After an insult is given, the sooner the insulted cuts off communication with the insulter, the better; then matters will have the best chance of terminating as they ought. If this maxim were universal, how many lives would have been saved! how many lives, also, which have dwindled out in sorrow and repining, for the death of friends by rash duels, would have passed without remorse and pain! A Major[16] would not have expired ignominiously on a scaffold for shooting a brother-officer; nor a Lieutenant[17] have drawn tears from the judge of a criminal court by the excess of his grief for the rash slaughter of his friend.
NIGHTS IN THE GUARD-HOUSE.
No. III.
“Make haste with yir tay, there, Pollard, an' let yir wife go home to her quarthers, for it's gettin' as dark as the divil; an' for a young good-lookin' English woman like her, it's not fit she should be out so late of a-night.”
“There, Mulligan: I'm done. Here, Mary, take away the tin pot, and be off home,” replied private Pollard, finishing the last sup of his two pints of good home-brewed tea.
Mrs. Pollard was the woman who messed for the squad now on guard; and a very pretty, neat, little, black-silk-bonneted “Lancashire witch” she was: one who had been daring enough to leave a comfortable home to couple her fortunes with a private soldier; yet virtuous enough to live in the midst of a regiment, affectionate and faithful to her husband.
“Well, I'm sure! this is a dark night, Mr. Mulligan,” said Mrs. Pollard, looking out. “But I says nothing to nobody as I goes along; and I'm sure I shaunt meet no harm—'ticklerly as I walks pretty sharpish.”
“I see yir not afeard o' the Irish fellows afther all, Mrs. Pollard,” said Mulligan.
“La bless you! not I. When I was a-coming over to Hoireland I was told by the folk in our town as how the Hoirish were all woild, and that they used to hunt un in the woods to tame un. Feather's John swore to me that he seed one on 'em with wings and a tail. But, La bless yi! I didn't think much on't. I was a little afraid, to be sure, at first. I didn't think there was houses and fields, and trees, loik as we have un in Lancashire; but I never believed the Hoirish had ony thing loik wings or tails.”