The clubs of those times were the great nurseries of duels. Large parties used to assemble, and a regular battle would take place, wherein many lives would be lost. Ladies were insulted, watchmen beaten and killed, and often it required a considerable force of mounted soldiery, before the "Mohawks," "Bold bucks," or "Hell fires” would disperse. "Our Mohawks,” This duel was avenged; for, three months says Swift, "go on still, and cut people's faces after, Swift journalizes thus: "Thornhill, who every night; but they shan't cut mine. I like killed Sir Chomley Dering, was murdered by it better as it is." These clubs were dissolved two men on Turnham Green last Monday night: by royal proclamation, after the murder, in as they stabbed him, they bid him remember seventeen hundred and twenty-six, of Mr. Gower Sir Chomley Dering. They had quarreled at by Major Oneby; and the town had a little Hampton Court, and followed and stabbed him peace. Oneby was sentenced to death for muron horseback. I went myself through Turn-der, the duel having taken place without witham Green the same night, which was yester-nesses and under apparently unfair conditions ; day."

between the ancestor of Lord Byron and Mr. | Theatre. Captain Macrea ordered him to take Chaworth, in seventeen hundred and sixty-five, it away; the man refused; the captain beat him was also one without seconds or witnesses. severely, and the next day, meeting Sir George, That Lord Byron and Mr. Chaworth had had a insisted on his instant dismissal. This time Sir very slight dispute about Sir Charles Sedley's George refused, and Captain Macrea challenged manors, and the amount of game he preserved. him. They fought on Musselburgh Links. Sir It was a mere nothing; what would pass now George's fire was without effect, but Captain without more than a momentary feeling of irri- Macrae lodged his ball near his adversary's tation; but then, it was matter worthy of death. heart. Sir George lingered for a few days in They fought in a room, alone; and Mr. Cha- great agony, then died. Macrea fled, and was worth deposed, that, when he turned round from outlawed. When the servant heard of his masshutting the door, he saw Lord Byron coming ter's fate and the cause of the quarrel, he fell close upon him, his sword drawn. "I knew into strong convulsions, and, in a few hours, him," said the dying man, significantly; and he died. drew at once. Byron shortening his sword gave him his mortal wound, the poor gentleman living just long enough to give his evidence. Lord Byron was tried by the House of Lords, and found guilty of manslaughter. He claimed his privilege as a peer, under the statute of Edward the Sixth, paid his fees, and was discharged. But private vengeance did not always wait for legal retribution.

In the reign of George the Third, in which this latter duel happened, one hundred and seventy-two duels were fought, three hundred and forty-four people having been engaged in them. Yet the painful details of that terrible national lunacy were enlivened by such duels as that between George Garrick-brother to David—and Mr. Baddeley the actor; but these were not many. It was reported that George Garrick had induced Mrs. Baddeley to forget one of her essential duties to her husband, to which Mr. Baddeley naturally objected. They fought; Baddeley so nervous that he could hardly hold his pistol, George cool and debonnaire, and when his turn came for firing, firing in the air, like a prince. In the midst of the comedy a hackney-coach drew up, and out rushed Mrs. Baddeley, all beauty and disheveled hair. She flung herself between the pair, crying, "Save him! save him!" to each in turn; taking care at the same time to fall in a bewitching attitude. The combatants were melted; they rushed into each other's arms, embraced, and the tableau was complete. They then all went home together in Mrs. Baddeley's coach. How the husband and the reputed lover arranged matters for the future there is no record left to tell.

Sometimes even serious duels had a better ending than by wounds or death. Sheridan won his wife, the beautiful Miss Linley, by fighting twice on her account, with Mr. Matthews, of Bath; and Captain Stoney married Lady Strathmore the same week in which he had fought for her sake with Mr. Butt, editor of the Morning Post-the cause of duel in both instances being certain malicious and slanderous words which both these gentlemen had published, or caused to be published, against the ladies in question. But, in those days, every one fought, reason or none.

On April the fifteenth, seventeen hundred and ninety, Sir George Ramsey's servant kept a chair for him at the door of the Edinburgh VOL. XV.-No. 88.-LL

This was not the only quarrel about a servant. Ensign Sawyer, of O'Farrell's regiment in Kinsale, beat Captain Wrey's servant for giving, as he said, a slighting answer to his wife. The servant took out a warrant of assault, and the ensign challenged the captain for allowing him to do so. Captain Wrey remonstrated with the lad, and endeavored to cool his hot young blood; carrying him off far from the town, so as to have a better and longer talk. He thought he was doing some good and bringing the boy to reason, when suddenly he drew, and there was now no help for it. The captain threw himself on the defensive, and, in endeavoring to disarm the ensign, ran him through. He died in two hours, kissing the captain, and owning himself the aggressor.

Even for more trifling things than these were duels fought and lives lost. Mr. Stephenson was killed at Margate by Mr. Anderson, in a quarrel about opening or shutting a window; Captain Macnamara shot Colonel Montgomery through the heart because their dogs fought in Hyde Park; Lord Camelford and Mr. Best, bosom friends, fought about a worthless woman's transparent lie, in which affray Lord Camelford was fortunately shot, as he deserved to be; Baron Hompesch was called out by Mr. Richardson, because the Baron, being very short-sighted, ran against two ladies in the street-Richardson was killed; young Julius, a lawyer's clerk, was killed by Mr. Graham, also a lawyer, for a difference of religious opinion; Clark shot Mr. Frizell dead, because Frizell refused to drink any more-they were both law students. Political duels duels arising out of a mere difference of political view-were without number. The saddest of these was that between Mr. Alcock and Mr. Colclough, great friends and associates. They quarreled at Alcock's electiontime, went out and fought, and Colclough was shot through the heart. Mr. Alcock never recovered the horror of that moment. Tried and acquitted of the murder, he yet could not acquit himself; and in a short time he sank into a state of melancholy that was nearer to insanity than sorrow. His sister, Miss Alcock, who had long known and loved Mr. Colclough, went mad.

The most atrocious duel of modern times is one that took place, near New Orleans, between two Frenchmen-Hippolyte Throuet and Paulin Prué. They were placed back to back, at five

paces; at a certain signal they turned and fired as among the artificial divinities of our own land. -to no effect. They then took their second If religion consisted only of the devotion of the pistols, but Prué grasped his so convulsively worshiper to wood and paint, we would bow the that it went off in the air. Throuet paused, head and bend the knee to the senseless image, covering him with his pistol, the by-standers cry-without a doubt of its divinity and our own piing, "Don't fire! For God's sake don't fire!" Prué stood, bravely and quietly, fronting his enemy. After a lapse of several minutes, during which every one present had been wrought up to a pitch of nervous frenzy, Throuet, advancing slowly, with a diabolical laugh, pulled the trigger, and his ball passed through Prue's heart.

We will close this subject of madness and wickedness with a retributive story of a duel between an Englishman and a Frenchman. A certain English gentleman, who was a regular frequenter of the green-room of Drury Lane Theatre in the days of Lord Byron's committee, and who always stood quietly on the hearth-rug there, with his back to the fire, was in his usual place one night when a narrative was related by another gentleman, newly returned from the continent, of a barrier-duel that had taken place | in Paris. A young Englishman-a mere boyhad been despoiled in a gaming-house in the Palais Royal, had charged a certain gaming Count with cheating him, had gone out with the Count, had wasted his fire, and had been slain by the Count under the frightful circumstances of the Count's walking up to him, laying his hand on his heart, saying, "You are a brave fellow-have you a mother?" and on his replying in the affirmative, remarking, coolly, "I am sorry for her," and blowing his victim's brains The gentleman on the hearth-rug paused in taking a pinch of snuff to hear this story, and observed, with great placidity, "I am afraid I must kill that rascal." A few nights elapsed, during which the green-room hearth-rug was without him, and then he reappeared precisely as before, and only incidentally mentioned, in the course of the evening, "Gentlemen, I killed that rascal!" He had gone over to Paris on purpose, had tracked the Count to the same gaming-house, had thrown a glass of wine in his face in the presence of all the company assembled there, had told him that he was come to avenge his young compatriot-and had done it by putting the Count out of this world, coming back to the hearth-rug as if nothing had happened.

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ARE WE A POLITE PEOPLE?
OUR LADIES.

THE

THE admired of all the world-the prettiest women in it, as our American ladies undoubtedly are-it seems almost like sacrilege to approach such objects of universal worship with other offerings than hearts of devotion and words of praise. If, unprovided at home with household deities, we were heathen enough to fall down before images, and wanted a nice little idol to install in the vacant niche of a private chapel of Fashion, in order to keep us in daily practice of genuflexion, we don't know where we could supply ourselves so satisfactorily

ety. If love and social sympathy only asked for a pretty face and a handsome figure in woman, we should take off our hats at once in unquestioned reverence to our American ladies, We have too great a regard, however, for our countrywomen to ask so little of them, and shall now demand without reserve what more we want.

We are not going to plunge in the unknown depths of woman's heart, and lose ourselves in those dark places where no man has yet been able to find his way. We shall venture to tread only those pleasant paths, lightened by smiles and adorned with graces, which tempt the wanderer to the enjoyment of female companionship. It is not in search of sweet-heart or wife that we cast our eyes upon the dazzling beauties which cluster like endless stais about this dull firmament. We seek a companion for the hour, and not for all time; we ask only for a passing smile and a gracious word; and we are not going to offer hand and heart, or either. We do not propose, then, to talk of love or conjugal duty-of what our women should feel under the inspiration of the one, or do under the imposition of the other. We have something to say, however, in regard to their obligations, and how far they fulfill them, in their relations, not with this impatient lover, or that patient husband, but with all of us. Without desiring to interfere with vested rights, whether of love or matrimony, we claim that society generally has a right to more than it gets from our American women, and especially on the score of courtesy.

The female sex with us is so conscious of its external charms-of its prettiness of face and grace of person-that it seems to think that it has only to show the one and display the other to secure universal regard. To be seen of all men is the highest ambition of our beauties, and they take care to spread their plumage before every eye. That they succeed admirably in their purpose no one can deny; and, go where we will, we shall be puzzled to find a more visible and attractive display of external charms. The Boulevards of Paris and Regent Street of London show no such brilliant array as our Broadways; and the stranger confesses to the enjoyment of a public feast of beauty in American cities such as never before was spread before his hungry eyes. If woman was made merely to be looked upon, and studied, and criticised for her contour, her lines of beauty, the sculpture of her limbs, and the neat cutting of her hands and feet, we might rest satisfied with cultivating a connoisseurship among our native female models, and ask no more of them than that they should pose in the most becoming attitudes, and turn their charms to the brightest light. Woman, however, was made for better things; and

not only to please the eye, but to soothe with her graces and cheer with her sympathy the heart of man.

a bolder air in public than with us? Where does she flaunt her charms so freely? Where does her eye look with a steadier gaze on man? Where does her voice sound louder, and her laugh ring more sonorously? There is nothing, in fact, which our women are so deficient in as reserve. There is a publicity of bearing about them which reminds one more of the hotel than of home. You see that they are veterans in courage, however young in years, and can stand steadily the fire of a hundred eyes. Where a more timid bashfulness would not dare to show its face, they are as unmoved as bronze. If

quired, there would be no difficulty, we should think, in recruiting an army of bold-eyed Amazons among our beauties, ready to return look for look with the most formidable gallants that were ever marshaled for mischief.

The characteristic daring of our women, which we are willing to put down to their consciousness of robustness of virtue, has not always the most pleasing effect upon their manners. There is an eye bearing steadily the gaze of man, and having a conscious look of experience that by right belongs only to the wife, but which by some means or other has got into the heads of our most youthful vestals. There is a certain self-assurance, justified by little less than forty years of life and a considerable addition to the census, which is habitual with many of our belles long before their fingers glisten with the diamond of matrimonial engagement. There is a prominence of manner which catches eagerly at notice, and takes the lead in conversation with the opposite sex, that even in a Madame de Staël frightened the great Napoleon, and with which our female juveniles do not fear daily to startle us timid and respectable citi

Our women, cunning as they may be in most arts, want the art of pleasing. They not only have it not, but seem unwilling to acquire it. They are content to dazzle, and do not care to warm; and if they catch admiration, they are willing to forego friendship. This shows itself, even in their chance intercourse with strangers, in a characteristic deficiency of graciousness of manner that small return which every American gentleman has a right to expect for the gallantry he is so ready to proffer. Our wo-courage to face an enemy was all that was remen seem to think that a sight of them is a sufficient return for every courtesy or kindness. It is astonishing how universal that chivalrous devotion to woman, for which our countrymen have been so greatly and deservedly praised, continues to be. It is every where with its hand of courtesy and heart of sympathy, to do a politeness and supply a kindness; and yet, where will you find women who get so much and give so little as in our own country? It is always place aux dames, whether it be in the street or in the omnibus, in the rail-car or in the hotel; and our ladies, whenever they come, whether first or last, are always first served. They have the highest place at the table, the easiest seat in the coach, the better part of the cushion in church, and all the space in the street, to the manifest discomfort of the opposite sex, whose daily gallantry courts a daily sacrifice. We admire the disinterestedness of our gallant and suffering brethren, and we are not disposed to bate a jot of their devotion to woman, for if it does the recipient no good, it tells, undoubtedly, greatly to the benefit of the giver. We are afraid, however, that this chivalry, if it is not already on the decline, may die out in the course of time, for want of encouragement on the part Whatever may be the cause-whether it is of those who are its objects. Men will begin that American girls, like their brothers, are too by-and-by to compare the cost with the small- soon cut adrift from the apron-strings of their ness of the return, and, with their usual utili-mothers; whether it is that they are brought up tarian views of life, finding that it don't pay, will cease their prodigality of politeness. "Courtesy on one side never lasts long," is an old proverb, and as true as it is old. We pray you then, fair ladies, to be generous as you are handsome, and give a smile of acknowledgment, or utter a simple thank you, for the thousand favors you are daily receiving from your gallant countrymen. The best seat and the first place, the courteous attention and the gentle act of kindness, are cheaply purchased with a bow and a word; and it is hardly fair that you should begrudge them when they are so honestly earned. If what Livy says of women be true-that she is more amiable abroad than at home-we should fear that American husbands have not a very pleasant time of it at their own firesides.

This want of gracious acknowledgment of favors received in the ordinary intercourse of outdoor life, can not be excused on the score of modest reserve; for where does woman carry

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rather to dazzle society than to cheer and add to the comfort of home; whether it is that they are too often in the parlor and too seldom in the study or the kitchen; whether it is that they always go out to be seen, and never for purposes of health and enjoyment; whether it is that being so much in public they forget that their proper place is at the fireside-whatever may be the cause, there is no doubt of the fact that our female youth are more in the public eye, have a bolder face, a looser tongue, and a freer air, than used to be considered consistent with the character of a young gentlewoman.

Long before a girl in England or France dares to raise her eyes to the face of a newly-made male acquaintance, in America so rapid is her progress that she probably will have secured him as an acknowledged lover. With easy female manners, and no preliminary “Ask mamma!" to check youthful ardor, it is astonishing with what facility the course of love, or the ripple of coquetry, is made to run in this free coun

We have said, while rendering homage to the beauty of our women, that they were not only deficient in the art of pleasing, but seemed unwilling to acquire it. They are satisfied with the appeal to the eye, and if they fill a great space in the public vision, they care not how small a corner may be left for them in the public esteem. What is society with us, for the most part, but a show place for the external charms of woman? What do you find there but pretty female faces and fine dresses, set off by a contrast with insipid beaux in sombre suits? Who thinks of going to a place where our women congregate, with any other purpose than literally to see them? Who expects any other delight but the delight of the eye? You go and are dazzled with the glittering array of bright charms and gorgeous apparel, and you come back with a vision fatigued and confused, until relieved by a welcome darkness. Whose fault is it that society is thus a mere show place? How is it that there is nothing to cultivate the taste, to warm the heart, or inform the head? How is it that Miss

try. If you want to make and continue the ac- the retired bearing of modesty. A goddess of quaintance of a man's daughter in those old Liberty in the shape of a loose female in a loose lands of parental tyranny, you require an intro- dress, with bared bust, naked arms, and easy atduction to papa or mamma. Here, there is titude, may pass current on our coin from the inmany a ripening beauty of sweet sixteen, or trinsic value of the metal; but it is not desiraless, who can be reached without the fear of a ble that the daughters of our republic should snarl, a bark, or a bite, from any domestic Cer- model themselves according to any such standberus. There are no walls of household ex- ard of outward appearance and manners, whatclusion to be scaled; no desperate attempts at ever may be their basis of virtue. We not only a third story to be made; no terror of darkness, want good morals, but good manners; for we with the glimmer of a policeman's cigar at the know that the latter are the outworks and forticorner, and the shadow of a paternal night-cap fications necessary for the protection of the forin the window, to frighten the nerves; no du- mer. We pray you then, young ladies, to reenna to be bribed and coachman to be double-treat behind the entrenchments, and not expose paid; no untimely shrieks of penitence or hys- yourselves so recklessly. Don't provoke the terics of excitement to thwart the designs or try enemy by sallying out so boldly and flaunting the courage of the impatient suitor. All is free your colors in their face. and open, if not to the heart, at least to the presence of the desired object. The youthful Jones who may have polked a night with the youthful Araminta Brown, or been introduced in the street by the youthful Anabella Smith, rings at the paternal mansion, inquires for Miss Araminta, is ushered into the drawing-room, and is received with open arms by the blooming daughter of the house, while the old gentleman is absorbed in his cigar and the old lady is asleep over the evening paper, and both are as unconscious of the juvenile gentleman who is being so satisfactorily entertained in the next room as of the man in the moon. We have nothing to say just now about the possible risks to virtue of such freedom of will on the part of our young ladies. We may state, however, that the experience of the Old World is against its safety; and it is only in our own country where a girl is allowed to form intimacies with a score of ardent beaux who are not even speaking acquaintances with her parents. It is only in our own country where a young girl is allowed to flirt and coquette at home with beaux unwatched by parental solic-A. has so much to say about what Miss B. said itude. It is only in our own country where she can meet and promenade with them in the streets, without a word or a rebuke from those who have the right, and whose duty it is to look after her. It is only in our own country where she can go to or return from the opera, or theatre, or ball, without her father or mother, or some discreet and matronly substitute. It is only in our own country where she can take her ice-cream, and sip her sherry-cobbler, in the ex-quets, for it is there that they are absolute misclusive company of her male admirers of the hour. It is true our country is a free one, but no one has yet been bold enough, we believe, to advance the theory-whatever may be the practice that our Constitution establishes independence of domestic control. Dangerous it may not be to morals, this youthful freedom, but injurious it certainly is to female mauners. It emboldens the front, it opens wide the eye, it raises loud the voice, and gives an air of reckless daring to our youthful beauties, in whom every man-not excepting the rake-who has taste enough to admire the semblance even if he care not for the reality of virtue, would wish to find the blush, the gentle look, the soft specch, and

of Miss C., and not a word on her own account? How is it that Miss X. can tell you how many dresses Miss Y. has had this season, and how many scores of breadths Miss Z. wears, and is mum about every thing else? How is it that you hear nothing but gossip and the commonplaces of female fashion? Why, in a word, are you bored to death? We hold our women responsible for the meagreness of our social ban

tresses. It is in their power to spread a more substantial feast of reason, and pour out a freer flow of soul. We hungry mortals are not to be satisfied with the mere butterfly food with which female vanity bloats itself. Like Sancho Panza crying out for the flesh-pots, the nature in us will demand something more than a feast for the eye. We would not have our women-Heaven forbid!-less beautiful, and hardly less brilliantly arrayed, but we would have them more disposed to study the wants of social companionship and provide for them. If they will strive not only to catch the eye, but to please by cultivating a graciousness of manner, by studying the art of conversation and encouraging the heart of man with