that he would hear nothing more from the captain,
when another note--a challenge, of course--and another cherry-stone
arrived, with an apology, on the score of ill-health, for delay.

Again they met--fired simultaneously, and the captain, who was
unhurt, shattered the right elbow of his antagonist--the very point
upon which he had been struck with the second cherry-stone; and here
ended the second lesson. There was something awfully impressive in
the _modus operandi_ and exquisite skill of his antagonist. The third
cherry-stone was still in his possession, and the aggressor had not
forgotten that it had struck the unoffending gentleman upon the left
breast. A month passed--another--and another, of terrible suspense;
but nothing was heard from the captain.

At length, the gentleman who had been his second in the former duels
once more presented himself, and tendered another note, which, as the
recipient perceived on taking it, contained the last of the
cherry-stones. The note was superscribed in the captain's well-known
hand, but it was the writing evidently of one who wrote feebly. There
was an unusual solemnity also in the manner of him who delivered it.
The seal was broken, and there was the cherry-stone in a blank
envelope.

"And what, sir, am I to understand by this?" inquired the aggressor.

"You will understand, sir, that my friend forgives you--he is dead."

THE MIDSHIPMAN'S FUNERAL.

BY BARLEY DALE.

"Years ago, when I was quite a young man, I was appointed chaplain to
H.M.S. _Octopus_, then on guard at Gibraltar. We had a very nice time
of it, for 'Gib.' is a very gay place, and that winter there was
plenty of fun somewhere nearly every night, and we were asked to most
of the festivities. Now, on board the Octopus was a young midshipman,
whom I will call Munro. He was a handsome young fellow, but rather
delicate, and he had been sent to Gibraltar for the sake of the
climate, in hopes that the sea-air and warm winter might set him up.
He was the life of the ship, and wherever he went he was popular; and
it is possible he might have outgrown his weakness, for I don't think
there was any organic disease at this time, but he got a low fever,
and died in a week. This low fever was very prevalent, and at the
same time that poor young Munro died, an admiral, one of the leading
members of society at 'Gib.,' died of the same disease. As it was
considered infectious, the two bodies were placed in their