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Dunlap, William, 1766-1839 [1836], Thirty years ago, or, The memoirs of a water drinker, volume 2 (Bancroft & Holley, New York) [word count] [eaf089v2].
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CHAPTER XVIII.

Hoax continued. The button duellist.

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“For let the gods so speed me, as I love
The name of honour more than I fear death.”

Shakspeare.

“Within my bosom dwells another lord—”
Reason—“sole judge and umpire of itself.”

Home.


“Fought all his battles o'er again,
And thrice he routed all his foes,
And thrice he slew the slain.”
Dryden.

It would be “stale, flat, and unprofitable” to go into a detail
of the boyish scenes which the young companions of Spiffard
planned and executed as a trial of his unsuspicious character,
and as a source of amusement for themselves.

Beaglehole was a man who would enter with all his heart into
Allen's plot, and with the more glee as it was to be played off
upon a Yankee. Having been informed of the preceding transactions—
the particulars of the first acts of what was intended
as a comedy---he undertook the part of Captain John Smith's
friend, and waited upon Spiffard.

“My name is Beaglehole, sir.” Spiffard bowed. The visit
or repeated, “Beaglehole, sir.”

“I have no acquaintance of that name.”

“My friend, Captain John Smith, you know him, sir.”

“I do not, sir.”

“You addressed certain words to him at the theatre which
require explanation.”

“I spoke very plainly.”

“He demands an apology.”

“I have none to make.”

“I am directed by him to call on you, and, if no apology is
made, I am requested to see your friend. You have nothing
further to say to me, sir?”

“Nothing. I was called to a meeting with a Captain Smith,
and went with the intention of representing the impropriety of

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his conduct; with you, sir, I shall not enter into any discussion
of the subject. I neither know you nor Captain John
Smith.

“You have consulted a friend on the subject?”

“I have spoken to several on what I considered impertinence.
The last person was Mr. Thomas Allen.”

“I know him well. A man of honour. I will wait, upon
your friend, sir.”

“As you please. You certainly may wait upon whom you
choose to serve.”

The button-merchant was not satisfied that the scheme
worked well; but he reported to Allen—not exactly the words
as delivered.

It was so contrived by the quizzers that the next day they
were to meet in front of the theatre, and draw Spiffard from
his business of the stage, so that he might witness a preconcerted
pantomimic interview between Allen and Beaglehole.
Accordingly, Spiffard's attention was drawn to the gentlemen
by a remark made by Hilson.

“What are Allen and Beaglehole so earnestly talking about
over there in the park?”

“Settling a race,” said one of the club, “or a hoppingmatch.
I will pit Young for a hop against anything.”

“Except a flea,” said Hilson.

“But for a race I'll back Beaglehole.”

“Do you think he could carry your weight?”

“None of your quibbling, Tam. He'll beat any man I know
at a run.”

“The Colonel shall beat him, if the enemy is in the
rear.”

“Tom, I must fight you yet; by this I must.” And he
touched a bauble suspended by a riband on his breast.

What? the goose-and-gridiron at your button-hole?”

“The eagle, sir.”

“Your Ben Franklin—poor Richard—says the eagle is a
dishonest bird. The goose would have been much better as
the emblem of rusticity or wisdom.”

“Beaglehole shall beat any man in America at a race on
all-fours,” said Cooper.

“High, low, jack and the game,” said Hilson;” that's allfours.”

“You know what I mean: at running on hands and feet.”

“That depends on length of arms. The Colonel's are longer
than any man's since Rob Roy. But see, the two gentlemen

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are taking leave of each other. How formally they bow and
touch their hats. The match is made.”

Spiffard saw the two gentlemen apparently conversing with
great earnestness; and after a considerable time he saw them
separate, each bowing with that kind of ceremony, which, to
the attentive comedian, indicated an appointment, in the fulfilment
of which, he, like the felon on his way to the gallows, was
to be the principal performer.

Those who were in the secret enjoyed the earnest and eager
glances of Spiffard at the two ceremonious friends of himself and
Captain Smith. Mr. Beaglehole having dissappeared, Allen
joined the knot. But the result of this important interview
must be reserved for Spiffard's private ear, and the torture of
suspense protracted as long as possible.

“What have you and Beaglehole been settling so gravely?”
asked one.

“Nothing.”

“ `Nothing comes of nothing,' ” said Hilson. “What match
have you been making? His bay against your gray, or himself
against Young for a hop?”

“It's most likely a pistol-firing at Tyler's,” said another.

Although Spiffard had determined not to fight a duel, yet the
thought of controversy with a duellist was excessively annoying.
He might be insulted—perhaps reduced to the necessity
of repelling blows by blows. At length he was informed that
Mr. Beaglehole would immediately acquaint Captain Smith
that an apology was denied, and of course the captain's presence
necessary. Spiffard did not see the necessity. He
said nothing—but he was impatient to have the affair over.

Two more days pass gloomily at home. The teasing question
again is asked, “Wat's the matter, Mr. Spiffard?” and
the uncharacteristic answer made—“Nothing.”

Then comes a notification that Captain Smith's second having
written to his principal, said principal would be in New-York
the next day. Accordingly Beaglehole informs Allen
that Smith expects the rencontre at 7 o'clock the next morning.
Notice is given to Spiffard by Allen that he had agreed
to the appointment. And thus, although without fear of death
or the necessity of committing murder to avoid it, the young
man is doomed to another day and night of anxiety. He had
said enough on the subject to have made a real second throw
up the office; but it was not the wish of Allen and his partners
in mischief to understand; therefore preparations were made;
and Spiffard, willing to be from home, (where his looks were

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watched with very different feelings from those they produced
upon the hoaxers), was induced to pass the hour of dinner
which engrossed the evening with the same circle of convivialists,
who were sporting with his honest credulity, and enjoying
every token of his uneasiness.

It was now necessary that a new cause should be assigned
for the disappointment of the next morning. A pretext must
be found for the not meeting of combatants both so ready to
meet, but who never could meet. A plot was suggested, discussed,
agreed upon, and put in practice.

The first time that Spiffard joined the party, (after the important
arrangement), it happened that he entered, as frequently
occurred, sometime after the cloth had been removed, and the
nuts and jokes had been cracked until attention was called to
the colonel's history of his first campaign, or some other story
which was a joke to the company.

“The invasion of New-Jersey had broken up the school at
which I had been flogged, in the hope of fitting me for Princeton
college; and to my great joy, I was at liberty for any mischief,
without having the fear of the ferule before my eyes. I
have told you, that when the volunteers and minute-men turned
out and trained, the boys of Burlington formed themselves
into a company and trained too.”

“Yes, Colonel,” said Hilson, “you have told that once—or
twice.”

“No, not twice. I never tell my stories twice to the same
company. I never fight my battles o'er again—give us that
decanter—over again, more than once to the same—listeners—”

“Well; fill, and push the decanter this way; and push on—”

“Where was I?”

“Just out of school.”

“Home didn't suit me. My head was full of drums, and—
by the by, did I tell you that I was drummer to our company,
and—”

“You were determined to make a noise in the world.”

“A stale joke, Hilson. Well, colonel—”

“I determined to join the army, and run away—”

“A most heroic resolution!”

“From home.”

“I thought it was from the enemy.”

“Tom, none of your jokes.”

“Go on, colonel.”

“I was thought too small for a musket, and so I offered

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myself for drummer in a Pennsylvania regiment, and was accepted.
Well, my first knowledge of the whistling of a bullet was
at Trenton.”

“Ah! That was when you stooped down and pretended to
buckle your shoe, while the Hessians made the balls whistle
about the ears of those who carried their heads too high.”

“Let me light this cigar before I give you the battle of
Trenton.”

The entrance of the Vermonter gave an opportunity to
change the subject which was gladly seized, and the battle of
Trenton, which had been made rather familiar, was postponed
for the present.

When Spiffard was preparing to go home, Allen accosted
him thus:

“It is necessary, Mr. Spiffard, that our watches should be
in unison. We must be punctual. Rather before the time.
How is yours?”

“It wants five minutes of twelve.”

“I'm exactly half past eleven.”

All the company applied to their watches, and all in concert
cried, “half past eleven,” except Hilson, who said, “it is
only fifteen minutes past eleven, by Saint Paul's, the orthodox
clock, and by Saint Paul's, I go.”

“Every time you go to the theatre. No: it is exactly half
past eleven.”

All cried out, “Half past eleven;” and Allen, asking Spiffard
for his watch, and putting it back twenty minutes, said, “there
now, it is exactly ten minutes too fast. It is best for you to be
before the time.”

“I should not think so, if I was going to be hung, or shot,”
said Hilson, “but every one to his liking.”

“I tell you what, Spiff,” said the colonel, “you had better
go to bed and sleep soundly, or you may not be in nerve. I
make it a rule on such occasions to take a hearty supper, my
bottle of sherry or madeira, as it may be; then sleep till my
waiter calls me; take a bracer; keep my hands warm during
the ride or the sail, as it may be; and, with all my muscles in
order, coolly take my ground and my aim. Then, quick upon
the trigger, your man's down. Good night.”

It will be perceived from the foregoing that the meeting was
talked of freely by the company; and as a meeting of deathdoing
purpose. Spiffard had given hints, or more than hints,
of his intentions, but they were passed by as unheard. The
tormentors were determined to try him.

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p089-379
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Dunlap, William, 1766-1839 [1836], Thirty years ago, or, The memoirs of a water drinker, volume 2 (Bancroft & Holley, New York) [word count] [eaf089v2].
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