"That is what you call a poser, my dear Timothy, but I cannot help myself; this I can safely say, that I have no animosity against Mr Harcourt--at least, not sufficient to have any wish to take away his life." "Well, that's something, to be sure; but do you know, Japhet, I'm not quite sure you hit the right road when you set up for a gentleman." "No, Timothy, no man can be in the right road who deceives; I have been all wrong; and I am afraid I am going from worse to worse: but I cannot moralise, I must go to sleep, and forget everything if I can." The next morning, about eleven o'clock, a Mr Cotgrave called upon me on the part of Harcourt. I referred him to Captain Atkinson, and he bowed and quitted the room. Captain Atkinson soon called; he had remained at home expecting the message, and had made every arrangement with the second. He stayed with me the whole day; the Major's pistols were examined and approved of; we dined, drank freely, and he afterwards proposed that I should accompany him to one of the hells, as they are called. This I refused, as I had some arrangements to make; and as soon as he was gone I sent for Timothy. "Tim," said I, "if I should be unlucky to-morrow, you are my executor and residuary legatee. My will was made when in Dublin, and is in the charge of Mr Cophagus." "Japhet, I hope you will allow me one favour, which is, to go to the ground with you. I had rather be there than remain here in suspense." "Of course, my dear fellow, if you wish it," replied I; "but I must go to bed, as I am to be called at four o'clock--so let's have no sentimentalising or sermonising. Good-night, God bless you." I was, at that time, in a state of mind which made me reckless of life or of consequences; stung by the treatment which I received, mad with the world's contumely, I was desperate. True it was, as Mr Masterton said, I had not courage to buffet against an adverse gale. Timothy did not go to bed, and at four o'clock was at my side. I rose, dressed myself with the greatest care, and was soon joined by Captain Atkinson. We then set off in a hackney-coach to the same spot to which I had, but a few months before, driven with poor Carbonnell. His memory and his death came like a cloud over my mind, but it was but for a moment. I cared little for life. Harcourt and his second were on the ground a few minutes before us. Each party saluted politely, and the seconds proceeded to business. We fired, and Harcourt fell, with a bullet above his knee. I went up to him, and he extended his hand. "Newland," said he, "I have deserved this. I was a coward, in the first place, to desert you as I did--and a coward, in the second, to fire at a man whom I had injured. Gentlemen," continued he, appealing to the seconds, "recollect, I, before you, acquit Mr Newland of all blame, and desire, if any further accident should happen to me, that my relations will take no steps whatever against him."