"You have insulted my sister," he replied, "and I have punished your falsehood. I fear neither your attempt at assassination--nor the resentment of that baseness which can trample on unprotected innocence. Remember, Mr. Granby, that the blow which you received was from a brother's hand! and if you be a gentleman, your infamy will be deepened by the seething recollections of your own conscience." "You have done wrong Lionel!" said many voices, "tell him, that you did not see him enter the room when the toast was offered, or you would not have wounded his feelings." "Who dictates to me?" said I,--"who measures my honor? who controls my revenge? for whoever dare treat me with such impertinent freedom, I will hold as an enemy, whom I will pursue to the grave. As for you, Mr. Pilton--you will _understand_----_to-morrow_." My couch that night was one of utter wretchedness, and my revenge was lashed into bitterness, by the whip of sleepless conscience. That I should in a moment of folly have committed an act disgraceful to a gentleman--that I should, under the excitement of puerile vanity, have offered myself to the just resentment of my enemy--that I should thus foolishly lose the "vantage ground," which I had long and anxiously sought--that I should be stung and tortured by a consciousness of impropriety--and that I should bear on my proud cheek, the scorching blush of a public insult, were feelings which conspired to humble and cheapen me to the lowest point of mental and personal degradation. Where duelling is a passion--and where public opinion calls it chivalry, it is easy to procure a second, and I was saved the trouble of seeking one by the voluntary offer of the young man who had given the offensive toast to my vanity. Early on the next morning, the warlike missive, graced with the usual courtesies, was sent to Pilton, and in a short time I received the following answer--a brief, though comprehensive commentary on the truisms and philosophy of cowardice. _Sir_--I cannot--I will not fight a duel. I owe duties to my country, my God, and my family, dependent on a life which none but a fool would idly risk. I am not sufficiently base to murder you--nor am I silly enough to offer my life to your malignant revenge. I have no right to kill you--therefore, I shall not attempt it. I {95} chastised you, as I shall do every man, who acts in a similar manner, for an insult to the reputation of a sister. Sustained by an approving conscience--and a mind honestly alive to a sense of its own dignity, I am prepared to defend myself from every attack of brutality and malice. Your ob't servant, EDMUND PILTON. _Lionel Granby, Esq._ "Why did you suffer Pilton to refuse the challenge? Was it not delivered in proper form? and did you not assure him that there was no alternative?"