IN an instant all was uproar; a French picket was called, which in a short time overpowered and carried me off to the guard-house of the regiment. I was promptly freed on announcing my name, but the officer who had collared me demanded an apology for the portion of the fracas concerning him personally. This being of course refused, a challenge was the consequence; and on the following morning we met behind the ramparts and exchanged shots, my ball passing through the poor fellow’s thigh and dropping him. My escape, too, was a narrow one — his ball perforating my coat, waistcoat, and shirt, and bruising my side.

I expressed a hope that he had not been hit in a vital part. His reply — uttered with all the politeness of his nation — was, that “he was not materially hurt.” I, however, was not at ease, for it was impossible not to regret this, to him, serious denouement of a trumpery affair, though arising from his own intemperate conduct. It was a lesson to me in future never to do anything in frolic which might give even unintentional offence.