-bye, Judy pronounced the _n_
through her nose, and said "_d_o.")

"Ah do, jewel," said her friend.

Judy again responded, "_D_o."

"And why won't you go, dear?" inquired her friend again.

"I've to wash de child," said Judy.

"Sure, didn't you wash it last week?" said her friend, in an
expostulatory tone.

"Oh, well, I _won't_ go," said Judy.

"Throth, Judy, you're ruinin' your health," said this soft-hearted
acquaintance; "dere's a man to die to-morrow, and you won't
come--augh!--you _d_ever take _d_o divarshin!"

And wherefore is it thus? Why should tears bedew the couch of him who
dies in the bosom of his family, surrounded by those who love him,
whose pillow is smoothed by the hand of filial piety, whose past is
without reproach, and whose future is bright with hope? and why should
dry eyes behold the duellist or the culprit, in whom folly or guilt may
be the cause of a death on which the seal of censure or infamy may be
set, and whose futurity we must tremble to consider? With more reason
might we weep for the fate of either of the latter than the former, and
yet we _do_ not. And why is it so? If I may venture an opinion, it is
that nature is violated: a natural death demands and receives the
natural tribute of tears; but a death of violence falls with a stunning
force upon the nerves, and the fountain of pity stagnates and will not
flow.

Though there was a general scattering of the persons who came to see
the duel, still a good many rode homeward with Murphy, who, with his
second, Tom Durfy, beside him, headed the party, as they rode gaily
towards the town, and laughed over the adventure of Andy and Dick.

"No one can tell how anything is to finish," said Tom Durfy; "here we
came out to have a duel, and, in the end, it turned out a hunt."

"I am glad you were not in at _my_ death, however," said Murphy, who
seemed particularly happy at not being killed.

"You lost no time in firing, Murtough," said one of his friends.

"And small blame to me, Billy," answered Murphy; "Egan is a capital
shot, and how did I know but he might take it into his head to shoot
me?--for he's very hot when roused, though as good-natured a fellow in
the main as ever broke bread; and yet I don't think, after all, he'd
have liked to do me much mischief either; but, you see, he couldn't
stand the joke he thought I played him."

"Will you tell us what it was?" cried another of the party, pressing
forward, "for we can't make