The challenge was here again, for the time, withdrawn and another unsuccessful attempt made by the seconds to effect an adjustment. In the light of what was so soon to follow, it is painful to read that all this came about and continued to the bloody end, because Mr. Cilley in substance refused to disclaim that his declination of Webb's challenge was for the reason that he did not consider him a gentleman. His repeated assurance that in doing so, he intended no disrespect to the bearer of the challenge, for whom he entertained the most kindly feelings, strangely enough to us was deemed insufficient. The challenge being renewed, the parties, after due observance of the formalities as before, confronted each other for the third and last time. And now closes the official report: "the rifles being loaded, the parties resumed their stations, and fired the third time very near together. Mr. Cilley was shot through the body. He dropped his rifle, beckoned to some one near him, and said, 'I am shot,' put both his hands to his wound, fell, and in two or three minutes expired." What a commentary all this upon "the code of honor"! Upon what appears the shadow of a technicality even, two young men of recognized ability, chosen representatives of the people, confronted each other in continued combat, until death closed the scene, and neither had the slightest feeling of hostility toward the other! This duel, so utterly groundless in its inception and bloody in its termination, was the last fought in Bladensburg. Intense excitement followed the death of the lamented Cilley and public sentiment was deeply aroused against the horrible custom of duelling. But the public sentiment that existed at the time must be taken into account before a too ready condemnation of one of the actors in this fearful tragedy. In announcing the death of Mr. Cilley to the Senate, Mr. Williams of Maine said: "In accepting the call, he did nothing more than he believed indispensable to avoid disgrace to himself, his family, and his constituents."