who was on the same errand. The Rye carrier furnished us with saddle-horses, at twelve shillings a man. We reached Rye, one of the Cinque Ports, about sixty miles from the English capital, and put up at the Mermaid, outside the ramparts. The bully host was saucy to us, because we were Scots--so I stuffed his wig down his throat, while the Viscount flung all the furniture out of the windows. The churlish townsmen betook them to staves and bills; but we fought our way to a French lugger--one of those craft that are generally engaged in the conveyance of chalk from the cliffs near the East Bourne--and got clear off, with a few bruises. Landing at Dieppe, we lodged at the house of an Englishman, near the church of St. James. On the very day we arrived, I became, embroiled in an affair of honour. On the ramparts, which are the public promenade, a gentleman jostled me somewhat rudely, and passed on; but I twitched the end of his mantle, saying, '"Monsieur will, of course, apologise?" '"That, I think should rather be your task," said he. '"A task it would be--but it shall be my pleasure to teach you politeness; follow me." 'We reached a retired place near the old castle of Dieppe--threw our hats and cloaks on the ground, and drew our rapiers. '"You have challenged me," said my antagonist; "I therefore have the right of weapons." '"Agreed," said I. '"Your name, Monsieur?" said he; "I always like to know the names of those I kill." '"Sir Quentin Home, a Baronet of Scotland--yours?" '"M. le Comte de Forgatz----"' 'Good Heavens!' exclaimed the Marechal de Logis; 'he is the greatest duellist and most deadly shot in France. It is a miracle that you are alive!' Sir Quentin smiled with careless disdain. 'We tossed up for the first fire and it fell to the Count. He fired, and the ball grazed my right ear--.' 'The devil! that was a close shave.' '"Now, M. le Comte," said I, "'tis my turn--up with your right hand." 'He delayed. '"Up with it, or by the soul of St. Andrew, I will shoot you through the heart!" 'He held it up, and in an instant my bullet whistled right through the palm of it. '"A thousand curses!" he exclaimed, in a voice hoarse with rage and pain, as he dashed his pistol at my head; but I forced him to apologise for daring to jostle me, and so the affair ended.' 'Bravo!' said the old Marechal de Logis; '_Fier comme un Ecossais!_ as the French have it.' 'After this camisado, we hired horses, and at Rouen swam them through the river Seine in sheer bravado, because the bridge of boats had been swept away. At Santeville, the Viscount fought a duel in defence of a grisette, and disarmed his antagonist, a gigantic officer of Swiss, at the third pass; and so, without further adventure, we reached Paris this morning. These are our adventures; and now Mr. Blane for yours.' I soon related mine at least, all with which I deemed it prudent to acquaint two such hare-brained youths as my new comrades.