"I'll make one. I'll insult him the first time I meet him and then, if he says any thing, challenge and shoot him." "That would be quite gentlemanly, quite according to the code of honour," returned the friend, quietly. The young military gentleman we have introduced was named Redmond. The reader has already penetrated his character. In person he was quite good-looking, though not the Adonis he deemed himself. He had fallen deeply in love with the "acres of charms" possessed by a certain Miss Clinton, and was making rapid inroad upon her heart--at least he thought so--when a young man well known in the literary circles made his appearance, and was received with a degree of favour that confounded the officer, who had already begun to think himself sure of the prize. Blake had a much readier tongue and a great deal more in his head than the other, and could therefore, in the matter of mind at least, appear to much better advantage than his rival. He had also written and published one or two popular works; this gave him a standing as an author. Take him all in all, he was a rival to be feared, and Redmond was not long in making the discovery. What was to be done? A military man must not be put down or beaten off by a mere civilian. The rival must be gotten rid of in some manner; the professional means was, as has been seen thought of first. Blake must be challenged and killed off, and then the course would be clear. A few days after this brave and honourable determination, the officer met the author in a public place, and purposely jostled him rudely. Blake said nothing, thinking it possible that it was an accident; but he remained near Redmond, to give him a chance to repeat the insult, if such had been his intention. It was not long before the author was again jostled in a still ruder manner than before at the same time some offensive word was muttered by the officer. This was in the presence of a number of respectable persons, who could not help hearing, seeing, and understanding all. Satisfied that an insult was intended, Blake looked him in the face for a moment, and then asked, loud enough to be heard all around--"Did you intend to jostle me?" "I did," was the angry retort. "_Gentlemen_ never do such things." As Blake said this with marked emphasis, he looked steadily into the officer's face. "You'll hear from me, sir." And as the officer said this, menacingly, he turned and walked away with a military air. "There's trouble for you now, Blake; he'll challenge you," said two or three friends who instantly gathered around him. "Do you think so?" "Certainly; he is an officer--fighting is his trade." "Well, let him." "What'll you do?" "Accept the challenge, of course." "And fight?" "Certainly." "He'll shoot you." "I'm not afraid." Blake returned with his friend to his lodgings, where he found a billet already from Redmond, who was all eagerness to wing his rival.