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“ Coffee and pistols for two—without the coffee !"

To which the Frenchman, with a bow of the intensest politeness, replied—toujours en sifflant -always in whistling

Oh, but gold is a chimera !
Money all a fleeting dream!

that game.

Which was not much more, and certainly no less than "Oh, if you come to that, two can play at

game. Poor devil! what a loss you will be to the worthy and estimable society of muffs and slow coaches! What will that excellent individual, Milady Popkins, remark, when she hears that I have settled the account of her son without a surplus ? After you, sir, if you please! I will directly have the pleasure of following and killing you."

Out of the café, and along the boulevards, strode the Englishman, followed by his new acquaintance, both “whistling as they went”certainly not“from want of thought.” Whether it was “ to keep their courage up,” is not written in history.

They soon reached a hall, where the Englishman offered the only weapons in his possession, excepting “maulies,” or fists,—and these were a pair of rapiers.

And here it would appear, gracious reader, (if you are gracious,) that either I, or the Frenchman, or both of us, made a great mistake, when we understood the Englishman, by the sounds he uttered in his challenge, to signify the whistle of pistol-bullets. It appears that it was the whiz of swords, to which he had reference. But the Frenchman, who believed himself good at all things in general, and the fleurette in particular, made no scruples, butdrawing his sword with a long whistle-struck a salute, and held up a beautiful guard, accompanying every movement with a note from the original air of

Oh, but gold is a chimera !
Money all a fleeting dream!

And now, reader, had I the pen of the blind old man of Scio's rocky isle, I would describe thee a duel in the real comme il faut, two-thirty style. Every note of the air was accompanied by a thrust or a parry. When the Englishman made a thrust of low carte seconde, the Frenchman guarded with a semicircle parade, or an octave (I forget which). When the Frenchman made an appel, a beat, or a glissade, the Englishman, in no wise put out, either remained firm or put in a time thrust. Both marking time with the endless refrain

Oh, but gold is a chimera !

Money all a fleeting dream ! At last, an untimely thrust from the Englishman's rapier settled the business. The Frenchman fell—dropped his sword—and whistled in slower, slower measure and broken accents, for the last time, his little melody.

Reader, I have no doubt that you have heard, ere now, the opera of Lucia di Lammer. moor, and can well recall the dying struggles and perishing notes of Edgardo-

Se di-vi-si fummo in ter-ra,
Ne cong-iun-ga ne congiung-a il Nume in ciel !
Ne con-giun-ga, ah ! oh !-Num' in ciel-

1-0-ti-i-se-guo !-oh !-oh! And so it was with our poor Frenchman, who panted forth, game to the last

Oh,-but g-'g='gold is a chi-mera !

M-'m-'mon-ey but a fleeee_And here—borne on the wings of a last expiring whistle—his soul took its flight.

Not a word had been spoken by either of the combatants !-Meister Karl's Sketch-Book.



Herr Schnitzerl make a philosopede,

Von of de pullyest kind;
It vent mitout a vheel in front,

And had n't none pehind.
Von vheel vas in de mittel, dough,

And it vent as sure as ecks,
For he shtraddled on de axle dree

Mit de vheel petween his lecks.

Und ven he vant to shtart id off

He paddlet mit his veet,
Und soon he cot to go so vast

Dat avery dings he peat.
He run her out on Broader shtreed,

He shkeeted like der vind,
Hei! how he bassed de vancy crabs,

And lef dem all pehind !

De vellers mit de trottin nags

Pooled oop to see him bass; De Deutschers all erstaunished saidt:

Potztausend ! Was ist das?" Boot vaster shtill der Schnitzerl flewed

On-mit a gashtly smile;

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He tid n't tooch de dirt, py shings !

Not vonce in half a mile.

Oh, vot ish all dis earthly pliss ?

Oh, vot ish man's soocksess?
Oh, vot ish various kinds of dings?

Und vot ish hobbiness?
Ve find a pank-node in de shtreedt,

Next dings der pank is preak;
Ve folls, und knocks our outsides in,

Ven ve a ten shtrike make.

So vas it mit der Schnitzerlein

On his philosopede.
His feet both shlipped outsideward shoost

Vhen at his extra shpeed.
He felled oopon der vheel of course;

De vheel like blitzen flew :
Und Schnitzerl he was schnitz * in vact

For id shlished him grod † in two.

Und as for his philosopede,

Id cot so shkared, men say, It pounded onward till it vent

Ganz | teufelwards afay.

* Cut.

7 Straight.

† Quite.

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