he room where Mr. Falkland was standing, and
with one blow of his muscular arm levelled him with the earth. The blow
however was not stunning, and Mr. Falkland rose again immediately. It is
obvious to perceive how unequal he must have been in this species of
contest. He was scarcely risen before Mr. Tyrrel repeated his blow. Mr.
Falkland was now upon his guard, and did not fall. But the blows of his
adversary were redoubled with a rapidity difficult to conceive, and Mr.
Falkland was once again brought to the earth. In this situation Mr.
Tyrrel kicked his prostrate enemy, and stooped apparently with the
intention of dragging him along the floor. All this passed in a moment,
and the gentlemen present had not time to recover their surprise. They
now interfered, and Mr. Tyrrel once more quitted the apartment.

It is difficult to conceive any event more terrible to the individual
upon whom it fell, than the treatment which Mr. Falkland in this
instance experienced. Every passion of his life was calculated to make
him feel it more acutely. He had repeatedly exerted an uncommon energy
and prudence, to prevent the misunderstanding between Mr. Tyrrel and
himself from proceeding to extremities; but in vain! It was closed with
a catastrophe, exceeding all that he had feared, or that the most
penetrating foresight could have suggested. To Mr. Falkland disgrace was
worse than death. The slightest breath of dishonour would have stung him
to the very soul. What must it have been with this complication of
ignominy, base, humiliating, and public? Could Mr. Tyrrel have
understood the evil he inflicted, even he, under all his circumstances
of provocation, could scarcely have perpetrated it. Mr. Falkland's mind
was full of uproar like the war of contending elements, and of such
suffering as casts contempt on the refinements of inventive cruelty. He
wished for annihilation, to lie down in eternal oblivion, in an
insensibility, which, compared with what he experienced, was scarcely
less enviable than beatitude itself. Horror, detestation, revenge,
inexpressible longings to shake off the evil, and a persuasion that in
this case all effort was powerless, filled his soul even to bursting.

One other event closed the transactions of this memorable evening. Mr.
Falkland was baffled of the vengeance that yet remained to him. Mr.
Tyrrel was found by some of the company dead in the street, having been
murdered at the distance of a few yards from the