North American savage whom you brought hither with me. I never before
saw one of that species. He looks very grim. Pray, sir, what is your
name? I understand you speak English.

_Savage_.--Yes, I learnt it in my childhood, having been bred for some
years among the English of New York. But before I was a man I returned
to my valiant countrymen, the Mohawks; and having been villainously
cheated by one of yours in the sale of some rum, I never cared to have
anything to do with them afterwards. Yet I took up the hatchet for them
with the rest of my tribe in the late war against France, and was killed
while I was out upon a scalping party. But I died very well satisfied,
for my brethren were victorious, and before I was shot I had gloriously
scalped seven men and five women and children. In a former war I had
performed still greater exploits. My name is the Bloody Bear; it was
given me to express my fierceness and valour.

_Duellist_.--Bloody Bear, I respect you, and am much your humble servant.
My name is Tom Pushwell, very well known at Arthur's. I am a gentleman
by my birth, and by profession a gamester and man of honour. I have
killed men in fair fighting, in honourable single combat, but don't
understand cutting the throats of women and children.

_Savage_.--Sir, that is our way of making war. Every nation has its
customs. But, by the grimness of your countenance, and that hole in your
breast, I presume you were killed, as I was, in some scalping party. How
happened it that your enemy did not take off your scalp?

_Duellist_.--Sir, I was killed in a duel. A friend of mine had lent me a
sum of money. After two or three years, being in great want himself, he
asked me to pay him. I thought his demand, which was somewhat