"You intend to challenge Dixon ?" said George Torrey, after he had listened to his friend's story.

"I do I must. You smile, and I know your opinion, and I know it is right,-but we must, while we live in the world, be guided by the customs of society. Who can endure the "dread laugh" of derision, that among us follows the man, who is pointed at as a coward? I cannot, I will not, let the consequences be what they may, I shall challenge Dixon. I know he is a mean villain,—I despise him; and yet I shall give him a chance to acquire honor to himself by killing me. I shall do this in obedience to custom,-to a custom that I condemn, and wish was annihilated, But I shall follow it notwithstanding. Will you, George, be my second ?"

The discussion that followed cannot be given at length, but the conclusion was, that George Torrey, finding he could not reason his friend out of the belief that there existed no necessity for the duel, determined to take the quarrel and the danger on himself.

"If," said George, "this affair cannot be overlooked without incurring disgrace, I will send the challenge. The matter properly belongs to me. It was my section of the country that was vilified; it was me he intended to insult. You generously defended me at the table when I was absent; but that is no reason why you should fight for me when I am present. I repeat it,-if there must be a challenge I will send it, and you may act as my second."

This arrangement was finally adopted Robert felt some compunctious visitings of conscience while the challenge was penning; but he was so anxious to have his friend, his future brother, considered a man of honor, that he felt glad the affair was to be so decided. He knew George was an excellent marksman, and cool in spirit, and had the perfect command of his muscles. Dixon too, was expert at shooting, but he was often intoxicated either with passion or liquor, and-who can answer for the thoughts of his heart when under the dominion of violent prejudice? thousands have been as culpable as was Robert Simonds, when he eagerly anticipated seeing Arnold Dixon weltering in his blood, slain by the hand of George Torrey.

What did George Torrey anticipate? He did not dare reflect on all the consequences that might be the result of

this rash affair. He thought it his duty to send the challenge and meet the foe, rather than permit Robert to fight. But he hoped the matter would be accommodated; that Dixon would decline, as he might, without the imputation of cowardice, by alleging that he had not intended to insult the party who challenged. And then George flattered himself a little discussion would satisfy all parties.

But George was disappointed; for Dixon not only accepted his invitation to "meet him, &c. on the ensuing morning," but he exultingly added, that he wished to have the affair decided immediately; that he had a friend with him, and they would be on the spot in half an hour, where "all preliminaries, &c. might be easily settled."

"He is drunk," said Robert, his eyes flashing with joy; "your victory is secure."

"My escape may be more probable," replied George. "I will meet him, and stand his shot as your code of honor directs; but I will not return his fire. I risk my own life to satisfy what I consider a wicked prejudice; but I will not risk having the blood of a human being upon my conscience."

The two friends proceeded, arm in arm, towards the place of appointment. They walked in silence, both wrapped in different, but painful reflections. They had nearly reached the spot, when George, pressing the arm of his friend, said in a low, but distinct tone- Robert, if I fall, say to Delia-"

"You will not fall, you shall not," interrupted the other, impetuously." George, I fear I have done wrong in this business-I have been too sensitive, too hasty. If you are injured, I shall never forgive myself. But you shall not stand but one shot, if, when Dixon finds you are determined not to return his fire, if he does not then feel satisfied, I will fight him, and I will return his fire. Do not give me any farewell messages, I cannot hear such melancholy things."

They reached the spot; an accommodation was proposed to Dixon, if he would disclaim the intention of insulting George; but this he would not do, and he ended with some sneering remarks about the Yankees that made Robert's blood boil, but which, had it not been for the feelings of his friend, George would no more have heeded than the idle wind.

The ground was measured, and they took their stations. "You can kill him George," whispered Robert Simonds. "I shall not attempt it," replied George. "I am not seeking revenge."

"But you ought to endeavor to preserve your own life." "Then I ought not to have come here. But this is idle now. Give the word."

The word was given-Dixon fired-and George Torrey fell. Robert sprung to him, raised him-a stream of blood gushed from his right side. "It is all over," said George faintly, as he recovered a little from the first shock. "I am dying. I must leave the world just as it begins to smile upon me. I must leave Delia and you. O! I have lafely dreamed of great things-I have thought that, blessed with Delia's love and your friendship, I should use such exertions-I should be so indefatigable, that success would be mine. But it is all over-I must die before I have done anything I must die and be forgotten-Die as the fool dieth."

"O! George, George," said Robert, with tears flowing fast down his cheeks-"What shall I do? How shall I comfort Delia? Why did I allow you to send the challenge ?"

George attempted to reply, but the effort overcame him, and they thought him dying. But he revived again, and was conveyed to the house of Judge Simonds. He lingered twelve hours, and during most of the time, was able to

converse.

The clergyman who attended him, was struck with his conversation-so penitent-resigned and calm. He acknowledged his fault and prayed for forgiveness-and may we not hope it was accorded him? And then how kindly he strove to allay Robert's remorse, and sooth Delia's regret; and how affectionate, yet solemn, was the last parting kiss!

George Torrey was laid in the family vault of Judge Simonds, and before the year had expired, Delia slept beside her lover. Robert Simonds, agitated with grief for the loss of his friend, and indignation against Dixon, could hardly be said to be in possession of his reason, when, three days after the burial of George, he challenged his murderer to meet him. Dixon was so elated with his success over poor George, that he exultingly accepted the challenge of Robert.

They met; and at the first discharge, Dixon, was shot through the heart.

Robert Simonds still lives, but he is a melancholy, misanthropic being. Alone in the world, and continually brooding over the memory of those dear friends he accuses himself of destroying.

But there is one dear sound, that wakes

In every soul a chord ;

The rudest language music makes

With one remembered word.

Go, where proud realms have bowed to time,
Or through fresh countries roam;

Man's heart, in every age and clime,

Thrills to the sound of home.

CORNELIA.

FEMALE INFLUENCE.

We

THAT few events occur either in the moral or physical world, without an evident and assignable cause, is a truth, which needs no elucidation by argument or comment. may extend the assertion more generally without fear of contradiction, and declare that the most trivial and apparently isolated circumstance, though to human investigation it may appear absolutely independent, and unconnected, can still be traced to an adequate, though perhaps a remote cause, by an eye that can embrace the whole compass of nature. This truth has a peculiar pertinency in the study of mankind; and although the causes of human action are perhaps intricate and obscure, compounded as they manifestly are, with weakness and infirmity, with feeling and passion, with reason and rashness, with wisdom and with folly, yet as in those mechanical contrivances which the skill of the artist has invented for the computation of time, there is always some prevailing principle of action, which, however it may be regulated or controlled by the agency of minor causes, is that which gives activity to the whole.

In looking abroad over the wide field of rational existence, we see mankind engaged in various pursuits, actuated by various feelings, prompted by various motives, and impelled by various desires; pursuing the paths of fame, climbing the steep ascent to the hill of science, toiling like muck