blinked, like a frighted thing. Mr. Clay, however, was absent, and every day of his forbearance added bitterness to the insults that were heaped on him. What could he do? Undoubtedly, that religion, whose kingdom is not of this world, required him to endure patiently unto the end. It is a matter of regret that he did not, but who shall censure him harshly, for having, in a moment of uncontrollable exasperation, turned upon his pursuer and dared him to single combat! Of the duel, itself, it is not necessary to say much. Mr. Randolph, in defiance of established usage, went upon the field in a huge morning gown; and the seconds, had not Mr. Clay interfered, would have made this singular conduct the occasion of a quarrel. In due time the parties fired, and luckily for both of them, or at least for Mr. Clay, Mr. Randolph’s life was saved by his gown. The unseemly garment constituted such a vast circumference, that the locality of ‘the thin and swarthy senator’ was at least a matter of very vague conjecture. Mr. Clay might as well have fired into the outspread top of an oak, in the hope of hitting a bird that he supposed to be snugly perched somewhere among the branches. His ball hit the centre of the visible object, but _Randolph was not there_! and of course the shot did no harm and no good. After the first discharge, Mr. Randolph, by firing into the air, showed his disinclination to continue the fight. He immediately walked up to Mr. Clay, who was still standing in his place, and, parting the folds of his gown, pointed to the hole where the bullet of the former had pierced his coat, and, in the shrillest tones of his squeaking voice, exclaimed, ‘_Mr. Clay, you owe me a COAT, you owe me a COAT_!’ to which he replied, in a voice of slow and solemn emphasis, at the same time pointing directly to Mr. Randolph’s heart, ‘MR. RANDOLPH, _I thank God that I am no DEEPER in your debt!_’