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 in the negociation. You both fire—and miss—and then the seconds interfere, and then you shake hands, every thing being arranged in the most honourable manner, and to the mutual satisfaction of both parties. The next day you are seen pacing Bond Street, with an erect front, and a flashing eye—with an air at once dandyish, and heroical—a mixture, at the same time, of Brummell, and the Duke of Wellington.

It was a fine February morning. Sir John drove Vivian to the ground in his cabriolet.

"Nothing like a cab, Grey, for the business you're going on. I only keep it for meetings. You glide along the six miles in such style, that it actually makes you quite courageous. I remember once going down, on a similar purpose, in a post and pair; and 'pon my soul, when I came to the ground, my hand shook so that I could scarcely draw. But I was green then. Now, when I go in my cab, with Philidor with