'I give you my honour you shall have satisfaction, or the man who hath injured you shan't stay in our regi'ment.'

'I wish,' said Jones, it was possible to decide this ' matter to-night: now you have mentioned it to me, I 'shall not be able to rest.'

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Oh, never think of it,' returned the other: 'a few เ days will make no difference. The wounds of honour are not like those in your body: they suffer nothing by the delay of cure. It will be altogether as well เ for you to receive satisfaction a week hence as now.' 'But suppose,' says Jones, I should grow worse, and 'die of the consequences of my present wound.'

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Then your honour,' answered the lieutenant, will 'require no reparation at all. I myself will do justice 'to your character, and testify to the world your inten'tion to have acted properly, if you had recovered.'

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'Still,' replied Jones, I am concerned at the delay. I am almost afraid to mention it to you who are a 'soldier; but though I have been a very wild young 'fellow, still, in my most serious moments, and at the 'bottom, I am really a Christian.'

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'So am I too, I assure you,' said the officer; and so ' zealous a one, that I was pleased with you at dinner for taking up the cause of your religion; and I am a little offended with you now, young gentleman, that you 'should express a fear of declaring your faith before any one.'

'But how terrible must it be,' cries Jones, 'to any one 'who is really a Christian, to cherish malice in his breast, ' in opposition to the command of him who hath expressly 'forbid it? How can I bear to do this on a sick-bed? 'Or how shall I make up my account, with such an 'article as this in my bosom against me?'

'Why, I believe there is such a command,' cries the

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lieutenant; but a man of honour can't keep it. And เ you must be a man of honour, if you will be in the army. I remember I once put the case to our chaplain เ over a bowl of punch, and he confessed there was much 'difficulty in it; but he said, he hoped there might be a 'latitude granted to soldiers in this one instance; and to ' be sure it is our duty to hope so; for who would bear to live without his honour? No, no, my dear boy, be a 'good Christian, as long as you live; but be a man of 'honour too, and never put up an affront; not all the 'books, nor all the parsons in the world, shall ever persuade me that. I love my religion very well, but

I love my honour more. There must be some mistake

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' in the wording of the text, or in the translation, or in 'the understanding it, or somewhere or other. But 'however that be, a man must run the risk, for he 'must preserve his honour. compose yourself to'night, and I promise you you shall have an opportunity of doing yourself justice.' Here he gave Jones a hearty buss, shook him by the hand, and took his leave.

But though the lieutenant's reasoning was very satisfactory to himself, it was not entirely so to his friend. Jones therefore having revolved this matter much in his thoughts, at last came to a resolution, which the reader will find in the next chapter.

CHAPTER XIV.

A most dreadful chapter indeed; and which few readers ought to venture upon in an evening, especially when alone.

JONES Swallowed a large mess of chicken, or rather cock broth, with a very good appetite, as indeed he would have done the cock it was made of, with a pound of bacon into the bargain; and now, finding in himself no deficiency of either health or spirit, he resolved to get up and seek his enemy.

But first he sent for the serjeant, who was his first acquaintance among these military gentlemen. Unluckily that worthy officer having, in a literal sense, taken his fill of liquor, had been some time retired to his bolster, where he was snoring so loud, that it was not easy to convey a noise in at his ears capable of drowning that which issued from his nostrils.

However, as Jones persisted in his desire of seeing him, a vociferous drawer at length found means to disturb his slumbers, and to acquaint him with the message. Of which the serjeant was no sooner made sensible, than he arose from his bed, and having his clothes already on, immediately attended. Jones did not think fit to acquaint the serjeant with his design; though he might have done it with great safety, for the halberdier was himself a man of honour, and had killed his man. He would therefore have faithfully kept this secret, or indeed any other which no reward was published for discovering. But as Jones knew not those virtues in so short an acquaintance, his caution was perhaps prudent and commendable enough.

He began therefore by acquainting the serjeant, that as he was now entered into the army, he was ashamed of being without what was perhaps the most necessary implement of a soldier; namely, a sword; adding, that he should be infinitely obliged to him, if he could procure one. 'For which,' says he, 'I will give you any reason'able price; nor do I insist upon its being silver-hilted; only a good blade, and such as may become a soldier's thigh.'

The serjeant, who well knew what had happened, and had heard that Jones was in a dangerous condition, immediately concluded, from such a message, at such a time of night, and from a man in such a situation, that he was light-headed. Now as he had his wit (to use that word in its common signification) always ready, he bethought himself of making his advantage of this humour in the sick man. 'Sir,' says he, 'I believe I can fit you. 'I have a most excellent piece of stuff by me. It is not ' indeed silver-hilted, which, as you say, doth not become 'a soldier; but the handle is decent enough, and the 'blade one of the best in Europe. It is a blade that '-a blade that. In short, I will fetch it you this 'instant, and you shall see it and handle it. I am glad 'to see your honour so well with all my heart.'

Being instantly returned with the sword, he delivered it to Jones, who took it and drew it; and then told the serjeant it would do very well, and bid him name his price.

The serjeant now began to harangue in praise of his goods. He said (nay, he swore very heartily), 'that the blade was taken from a French officer, of very high 'rank, at the battle of Dettingen. I took it myself,' says he, from his side, after I had knocked him o' the head. The hilt was a golden one. That I sold to one ' of our fine gentlemen; for there are some of them, an't

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please your honour, who value the hilt of a sword more 'than the blade.'

Here the other stopped him, and begged him to name a price. The serjeant, who thought Jones absolutely out of his senses, and very near his end, was afraid lest he should injure his family by asking too little. However, after a moment's hesitation, he contented himself with naming twenty guineas, and swore he would not sell it for less to his own brother.

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'Twenty guineas!' says Jones, in the utmost surprise: think I am mad, or that I never saw a sword in my life. Twenty guineas, indeed! I did not imagine you would endeavour to impose upon me. Here, take the sword-No, now I think on't, I will keep it myself, and show it your officer in the morning, acquainting him, at the same time, what a price you asked me เ for it.'

The serjeant, as we have said, had always his wit (in sensu prædicto) about him, and now plainly saw that Jones was not in the condition he had apprehended him to be; he now, therefore, counterfeited as great surprise as the other had shown, and said, 'I am certain, Sir, I 'have not asked you so much out of the way. Besides, you are to consider, it is the only sword I have, and I must run the risk of my officer's displeasure, by going 'without one myself. And truly, putting all this together, 'I don't think twenty shillings was so much out of the ' way!'

'Twenty shillings!' cries Jones; 'why you just now ' asked me twenty guineas.'-' How!' cries the serjeant: sure your honour must have mistaken me; or else I 'mistook myself-and indeed I am but half awake. Twenty guineas indeed! no wonder your honour flew into such a passion. I say twenty guineas too. No, no, I mean twenty shillings, I assure you. And when