Memoirs of Major Alexander Ramkins (1718) by Daniel Defoe
page 18 of 78 (23%)
page 18 of 78 (23%)
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as a sham Challenge, whereby some of his Acquaintance being merry
dispos'd had a mind to divert themselves; others judg'd it might be a Design to Assassinate him upon account of some old Grudge now worn out of his Memory; in conclusion, 'twas order'd that he should present himself at the Place mention'd in the Challenge, and in case it was a real Thing, and that he escap'd with Life, a Horse should be ready to ride Post to _Brest_, whether he and his Recruits were order'd to take Shipping. But that he might not Alarm his Lodgings, he spent the remainder of the Night in the Tavern with his Friends, a fitter Preparation than praying for the Work he was about. About Five in the Morning he set out towards the Place of Battle, half a dozen of his Acquaintance following him at a convenient distance, to wait for the Issue, and to see Justice done in case he was assaulted against the usual Method of Duelling. When he came to the Place apointed, he saw a young Gentleman walking and musing under a Hedge with his Arms a Kimbo, whom he rightly judg'd to be his Man. When he came within Speech of him, the _French_ Officer stop'd and ask'd him if his Name was not _Ramkins_, and whether he had not receiv'd a Note the Evening before upon such an Occasion? my Brother made no other Reply, but that he took himself to be the Person, and that he would indite an Answer with the Point of his Sword; for though, said he, I am a Stranger both to you and the occasion of this Trouble you have given me, yet as I take you to be a Man of Honour, so I suppose you think your self injur'd to that degree, that Satisfaction either cannot or will not be given any other way, and therefore I am here ready to make up this mysterious Quarrel after the Method you have made choice of. It sometimes happens that Peace is struck up between Two Nations Sword in Hand; but my Brother's Antagonist was too warm to stand a Parley and act the Part of a Plenipotentiary; upon which, without making the least Reply, he whips off his Cloaths into his Shirt, and open'd his Breast to show his Adversary he scorn'd |
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