May 31, 1834.
Not many days since a party of gentlemen attended dinner in a neighbouring village, remarkable for its good chalybeate.
The evening went off merrily enough with the “least of tension and the flow of soul”, until, horribile dictu, one person, the hero of the scene, broke the sword of a gallant captain, a most serious insult to a man of honour.
On Saturday last the valiant captain came to town, called upon a friend, and went forth, fully determined to repair his wounded feelings as a gentleman and a soldier. He met the object of his ire in one of our streets, his former glories in the “tented field” rushed upon his recollections, and being a gentleman of very few words gave him “as the grand salute” a severe blow upon the cranium, which, upon a very simple mechanic principle, caused prostration.
His antagonist rose to return the compliment, when person interfered, and a repetition was fortunately prevented, much to the annoyance of the belligerents.
The police have, we understand, been on the watch for the gentlemen ever since the occurrence, and have not as yet succeeded in getting any clue to the quarter to which they proceeded.
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Europe is hastening to democracy. Nations have outgrown their swaddling clothes; they have attained their majority and have no longer need of absolute guardians. It is now the turn of the people.