I have been very much shocked—a messenger brought me a letter from my poor cousin Edward, scarcely legible, for it must have been written by a trembling hand—in short, William, he has been wounded in a duel, and intreats me to come to him. Heaven knows what danger he may be in; and as to his antagonist, the letter is quite silent in this respect; I fear, lest he should have the blood of a fellow-creature on his head. What can I do, his letter is very pressing, and the danger immediate and great; I do not like to go without consulting my tutor; and yet, if I wait for it, Edward may expire before I see him; besides, I do not wish to interrupt the pleasure he has promised himself in the society of an old college friend, whom he has not seen these ten years: Harry, too, is gone with him.—I must consider a moment—Well, my friend, I am going; they are now saddling my horse, and the kind mistress of the house has recommended an honest young man, who is acquainted with the road, to accompany me. As the Doctor is not expected home these two or three days, I hope, before his return, to send him a more satisfactory account of an affair, which I know will make him very uneasy, for he has always considered his pupils in the light of children. Should he return before my letter can reach this house, his sister will account for my conduct, which meets with her approbation. Farewell, I have at least forty miles to ride before night. CHARLES. LETTER XII. CHARLES _to_ WILLIAM. I am writing now by Edward’s bedside; he has received a very dangerous, but I hope not a mortal wound, though his fever is very high. Young Atkins, who was his antagonist, set off for France an hour after the duel. From every account I can gather, he was the aggressor; a trifling joke at the mess, after dinner, so exasperated this furious man, that he loaded Edward with the most opprobrious epithets. Edward was obliged to take notice of them, or quit the army with dishonour. Such are the false notions that prevail, that a man of real courage must risk his life when a drunkard or a fool insults him; that life which is only due to his country, is sported away in consequence of a drunken frolic. I am glad, my friend, I am not in the army, I should not like to appear a coward, or enter into a broil to obtain the name that every boaster, who neither fears God, nor loves his friends, purchases with the blood of a fellow-creature. I hope, however, I shall never be in such a situation. Edward is now asleep; it would be cruel to remind him that he was ever too fond of a jest; how often have I seen him give extreme pain by laughing at some peculiarity, or catching up some strange expression to play on, and hurt the feelings of the person who uttered it, whose visible distress never silenced his laugh.