for a gentleman."

"No, Timothy, no man can be in the right road who deceives: I have been
all wrong; and I am afraid I am going from worse to worse: but I cannot
moralise, I must go to sleep, and forget everything, if I can."

The next morning, about eleven o'clock, a Mr Cotgrave called upon me on
the part of Harcourt. I referred him to Captain Atkinson, and he bowed
and quitted the room. Captain Atkinson soon called: he had remained at
home expecting the message, and had made every arrangement with the
second. He stayed with me the whole day. The major's pistols were
examined and approved of. We dined, drank freely, and he afterwards
proposed that I should accompany him to one of the hells, as they are
called. This I refused, as I had some arrangements to make; and as soon
as he was gone I sent for Timothy.

"Tim," said I, "if I should be unlucky to-morrow, you are my executor
and residuary legatee. My will was made when in Dublin, and is in the
charge of Mr Cophagus."

"Japhet, I hope you will allow me one favour, which is, to go to the
ground with you. I had rather be there than remain here in suspense."

"Of course, my dear fellow, if you wish it," replied I; "but I must go
to bed, as I am to be called at four o'clock--so let's have no
sentimentalising or sermonising. Good night, God bless you."

I was, at that time, in a state of mind which made me reckless of life
or of consequences; stung by the treatment which I received, mad with
the world's contumely, I was desperate. True it was, as Mr Masterton
said, I had not courage to buffet against an adverse gale. Timothy did
not go to bed, and at four o'clock was at my side. I rose, dressed
myself with the greatest care, and was soon joined by Captain Atkinson.
We then set off in a hackney-coach to the same spot to which I had, but
a few months before, driven with poor Carbonnell. His memory and his
death came like a cloud over my mind, but it was but for a moment. I
cared little for life. Harcourt and his second were on the ground a few
minutes before us. Each party saluted politely, and the seconds
proceeded to business. We fired, and Harcourt fell, with a bullet above
his knee. I went up to him, and he extended his hand. "Newland," said
he, "I have deserved this. I was a coward, in the first place, to
desert you as I did--and a coward, in the second, to fire at a man whom
I had injured. Gentlemen," continued he, appealing to the seconds,