"When Felix showed himself on the top battlement of the tower from which he was to jump, opening and shutting a great pair of black wings that were fastened to his shoulders, every face in the great crowd was turned up to gaze at him. I thought myself that the tower never looked such a murdering height from the ground as when I looked at the poor devil standing on the tip-top stone, as unconcerned as an old cormorant on a rock, flapping his wings for a flight. At length, by his motions we saw that he was preparing to be off in earnest. The men held their breath hard, and the women began to tremble and cry; and then, all of a sudden, he made a jump off the battlement, and sailed away 'most illigant.' A wild shout of delight arose from the people, but before it had ceased the glory of poor Felix was 'done up.' After two or three flutters, his wings fell flat to his sides, his heels went up, and down he came tumbling like a wild-goose with a shot through his gizzard, plump to the ground! Every body thought that it was all over with him; but when we ran to pick him up, we found him lying on his back, not dead, but groaning most pitifully. We took him up as tenderly as we could, and carried him home, and laid him on his bed. When the doctor came he found that both his legs were smashed. Not a word nor a groan escaped him. After he came to his senses, he lay with his eyes open near an hour; and then, when the doctor was setting one of the broken bones, he tried to raise himself up in the bed, and with the fire dancing in his eyes, he said: "'Doctor, dear, how long will it be before I'm cured again?' "'Really,' says the doctor, 'I can't possibly take upon me to say, precisely. 'Tis a bad case, and I don't apprehend that you can be perfectly recovered under three months.' "'Three months! Oh the devil! what am I to do? Three months!--when I had just found it out!' "'Found _what_ out, jewel?' said his mother, who was sitting by his bedside. "'The cause of my failing to-day, mother. The wings were right, but I forgot _one_ thing.' "'And what was that, Felix?'" "'The _tail_, mother! If I'd not forgot me _tail_, I could have flew to Ameriky and back again!'" * * * * * Now that what is called, or miscalled the "Code of Honor," is falling into desuetude in regions of the country where it was once considered binding, the following laughable burlesque upon the manner in which modern duels are sometimes brought about, and conducted, will doubtless, as the newspapers say, be "read with interest:" "William Singsmall, Esquire, thought proper to say something very severe about somebody abroad, when the expression was taken up by Mr. Flea, a friend of the insulted party, who happened to be within reach of William Singsmall, Esquire. Mr. Flea waited on Mr. Singsmall, who refused to retract. Ulterior measures were hinted at, and the following series of hostile notes and messages ensued: I.