In about half an hour, Lord Mark Kerr returned, and found his uncle very much disturbed. "Nephew," said he, "you know my strong dislike of duelling. In our situation we are sometimes, perhaps, unable to avoid it. The French Colonel insulted you, at table; others noticed it, besides myself. I fear, my dear nephew, you will have to ask him to apologize." "I noticed it myself, my Lord," replied the Lord Mark; "you need have no trouble, on that account--we have already met--I ran him through the body; and they are now burying him, in the outer court." Duels are often produced, by a foolish, and fatal misestimate, which one man makes of another's temperament. The diminutive frame, the pale cheek, and small voice, modest carriage, youth, and inexperience, afford no certain indicia: _nimium ne crede colori_. Men of small stature, are sometimes the more _brusque_, and more on the _qui vive_, from this very circumstance. Ingentes animos angusto in pectore volvunt. That a man will not fight, like a dragon, simply because he has neither the stature of Falstaff, nor the lungs of Bottom, is a well authenticated _non sequitur_. A well told, and well substantiated illustration of all this, may be found, in Mackenzie's Life of Decatur, page 55. I refer to the case of Joseph Bainbridge, who, in 1803, when a midshipman, and an inexperienced boy, was purposely and wantonly insulted, at Malta, by a professed duellist, the Secretary of Sir Alexander Ball, the Governor. No one can read Mackenzie's Narrative, without a conviction, that Bainbridge owed the preservation of his life, to the address of Decatur. They met--fired twice, at four paces; and, at the second fire, the English duellist fell, mortally wounded in the head: Bainbridge was untouched. When I was a school boy, more than fifty years ago, I remember to have read, in an English journal, whose name I have now forgotten, a story, which may have been a fiction; but which was very naturally told, and made a deep impression upon me then. I will endeavor to draw it forth from the locker of my memory; and engage, beforehand, to be very much indebted to any one, who will indicate its original source.