Somebody told him that Smith was intending to flee the city in fear on an afternoon train, and Culkins proceeded to the depot, horsewhip in hand, to lie in wait for him.This was Saturday last.During the afternoon Smith concluded to accept the challenge.Seconds and a surgeon were selected, and we are mortified to state that at 10 o'clock in the evening Scanton's Bottom was desecrated with a regular duel.The frantic glee of Culkins when he learned his challenge had been accepted can't be described.Our pen can't do it--a pig-pen couldn't.He wrote a long letter to his uncle in New York, and to his father in Connaught.At about ten o'clock the party proceeded to the field.The moon was not up, the darkness was dense, the ground was unpleasantly moist, and the lights of the town, which gleamed in the distance, only made the scene more desolate and dreary.
The ground was paced off and the men arranged.While this was being done, the surgeon, by the light of a dark lantern, arranged his instruments, which consisted of 1 common hand-saw, 1 hatchet, 1 butcher knife, a large variety of smaller knives, and a small mountain of old rag.Neither of the principals exhibited any fear.Culkins insisted that, as the challenging party, he had the right to the word fire.This, after a bitter discussion, was granted.He urged his seconds to place him facing towards the town, so that the lights would be in his favour.This was done without any trouble, the immense benefits of that position not being discovered by Smith's second.
"If I fall," said Culkins to his second, "see me respectably buried and forward bill to Connaught.Believe me, it will be cashed." The arms (horse-pistols) were given to the men, and one of Culkins's seconds said:
"Gentlemen, are you ready?"
SMITH:--Ready.
CULKINS:--Ready.The blood of the Culkinses is aroused!
SECOND:--One, Two, Three--fire!
Culkins's pistol didn't go off.Smith didn't fire.
"That was generous in Smith not to fire," said a second.
"It was inDADE," said Culkins; "I did not think it of the low-lived scoundrel!"The word was again given.Crack went both pistols simultaneously.The smoke slowly cleared away, and the principals were discovered standing stock-still.The silence and stillness for a moment were awful.No one moved.Soon Smith was seen to reel and then to slowly fall.His second and the surgeon rushed to him.Culkins made a tremendous effort to fly from the field, but was restrained by his seconds.
"The honor of the Culkinses," he roared, "is untarnished--why the divil won't yez let me go? H--ll's blazes, men, will yez be after giving me over to the bailiffs? Docther, Docther!" he shouted, "is he mortally wounded?"The Doctor said he could not tell--that he was wounded in the shoulder--that a carriage would be sent for and the wounded man taken to his house.Here a heart-rending groan came from Smith, and Culkins, with a Donnybrook shriek, burst from his seconds, knocked over the doctor's lantern, and fled towards the town like greased lightning amidst a chorus of excited voices.
"Hold him!"
"Stop him!"
"Grab him by the coat-tails!"
"Shoot him!"
"Head him off!"
And half of the party started after him at an express-train rate.
There was some very fine running indeed.Culkins was brought to a sudden stop against a tall board fence, but he sprang back and cleared it like an English hunter, and tore like a lunatic for the city.Half an hour later the party might have been seen, if it hadn't been so pesky dark, groping blindly around the office in which Culkins had been a student at law.
"Are you here, Culkins?" said one.
"Before Culkins answers that," said a smothered voice in the little room, "tell me who yez are.""Friends--your seconds!"
"Gintlemin, Culkins is here.The last of the Culkinses is under the bed."He was dragged out.
"I hope," he said, "the ignoble wretch is not dead, but I call you to witness, gintlemen, that he grossly insulted me."(We don't care what folks say, but choking a man is a gross insult.--Ed.P.D.)He was persuaded to retire.There was no danger of his being disturbed that night, as the watch were sleeping sweetly as usual in the big arm-chairs of the various hotels, and he would be able to fly the city in the morning.He had a haggard and worn-out look yesterday morning.Two large bailiffs, he said, had surrounded the building in the night, and he had not slept a wink.And to add to his discomfiture his coat was covered with a variegated and moist mixture, which he thought must be some of the brains of his opponent, they having spattered against him as he passed the dying man in his flight from the field.As Smith was not dead (though the surgeon said he would be confined to his house for several weeks, and there was some danger of mortification setting in), Culkins wisely concluded that the mixture might be something else.A liberal purse was made up for him, and at an early hour yesterday morning the last of the Culkinses went down St.Clair Street on a smart trot.He took this morning's Lakeshore express train at some way-station, and is now on his way to New York.The most astonishing thing about the whole affair is the appearance on the street to-day, apparently well and unhurt, of the gentleman who was so badly "wounded in the shoulder." But a duel was actually "fit."3.10.A MORMON ROMANCE--REGINALD GLOVERSON.
CHAPTER I.--THE MORMON'S DEPARTURE.
The morning on which Reginald Gloverson was to leave Great Salt Lake City with a mule-train, dawned beautifully.
Reginald Gloverson was a young and thrifty Mormon, with an interesting family of twenty young and handsome wives.His unions had never been blessed with children.As often as once a year he used to go to Omaha, in Nebraska, with a mule-train for goods; but although he had performed the rather perilous journey many times with entire safety, his heart was strangely sad on this particular morning, and filled with gloomy forebodings.
