He prefers going to law,--a much more destructive proceeding of the two.
Nevertheless, if an Englishman must fight, why, he will fight. He says
"It is very foolish;" he is sure "it is most unchristianlike;" he agrees
with all that Philosophy, Preacher, and Press have laid down on the
subject; but he makes his will, says his prayers, and goes out--like a
heathen.

It never, therefore, occurred to the squire to show the white feather
upon this unpleasant occasion. The next day, feigning excuse to attend
the sale of a hunting stud at Tattersall's, he ruefully went up to
London, after taking a peculiarly affectionate leave of his wife.
Indeed, the squire felt convinced that he should never return home except
in a coffin. "It stands to reason," said he to himself, "that a man who
has been actually paid by the King's Government for shooting people ever
since he was a little boy in a midshipman's jacket, must be a dead hand
at the job. I should not mind if it was with double-barrelled Mantons
and small shot; but ball and pistol, they are n't human nor
sportsmanlike!" However, the squire, after settling his worldly affairs,
and hunting up an old college friend who undertook to be his second,
proceeded to a sequestered corner of Wimbledon Common, and planted
himself, not sideways, as one ought to do in such encounters (the which
posture the squire swore was an unmanly way of shirking), but full front
to the mouth of his adversary's pistol, with such sturdy composure that
Captain Dashmore, who, though an excellent shot, was at bottom as good-
natured a fellow as ever lived, testified his admiration by letting off
his gallant opponent with a ball in the fleshy part of the shoulder,
after which he declared himself perfectly satisfied. The parties then
shook hands, mutual apologies were exchanged, and the squire, much to his
astonishment to find himself still alive, was conveyed to Limmer's Hotel,
where, after a considerable amount of anguish, the ball was extracted and