opportunity is offered for covering the whole transaction with ridicule. It is now the turn of my opponent’s counsel to speak. He represents the affair as a foolish quarrel which happened a long time ago; wonders that neighbours should come to tear themselves to pieces in a court of law; takes hold of anything ludicrous in the defamatory expressions, makes the audience laugh, and sits down. Now all this, on whichever side the verdict may be given, is a real triumph to the aggressor; the public feeling is too often with him: there is nothing natural or apposite in the tribunal. The delay, the machinery, the expenses, and the formality of the proceedings, cast an air of the mock-heroic over the whole matter, very little tending to satisfy the mind of the injured party. The offence, too, was addressed to the feelings, and the recompense is one to be pocketed. Thus it is clear that the law has provided no efficient remedy, and perhaps can provide none, for a very large class of severe injuries. But this is not all; the injured party is often willing, as far as his own private feelings are concerned, to forego any redress, and bear the aggression as he may. But society, which has made one law to punish the duellist as a murderer, has, at the same time, by another, imposed upon him the necessity of fighting. This latter law, it is true, does not frown its terrors from columns of black letter, nor is it supported by volumes of cases and commentaries; but we rather think that the want of these auxiliaries is but too well compensated by the swiftness and certainty of its administration. No waiting until the assizes or sessions—no flaws in the indictment—no cajoling the jury. Whoever defies public opinion is convicted _on view_, and punished immediately on conviction. Who, then, shall say that he does not suffer by law? and that, in fact, the two laws, one of which commands, and the other prohibits duelling, are both the offspring of society? Is it, or can it be, of the least importance to the sufferer by this tyranny, that the framers of one of these enactments call the other law wicked and absurd? It may be absurd; the duellist may feel and think it to be so, but is he therefore to endure its punishment? Does he not act naturally, and we may even add rationally, in obeying the power which can best carry its will into execution? He knows that the penalty inflicted by the law of public opinion is certain; he knows also that it is the most galling which a man of high spirit and quick feelings can endure. On the other hand, he can be sure, even reasoning _à priori_, that two opposing laws cannot both exist in full vigour at one and the same time. But he has better evidence; he finds by his daily experience that the statute-book is almost a dead letter when it comes in contact with public opinion. Legislators, too, often forget that laws will not administer themselves. If a code of self-executing statutes could be framed, public feeling