whilst I, finding it utterly impossible to reach higher than his knees, got out of temper, and flung my sword up at him with all my might and main; it took his head clean off, and this bringing him down some

A HEAD SHORTER.

eighteen inches nearer to the standard of humanity, made a useful member of society of him at once-the more so as his head was never of any use to him, and he was really glad to get rid of it.

It seems curious, perhaps, that any one should be glad to get rid of a head, but I happen to remember a more curious case still. I once fought (with carbines) a City merchant of such bad, but at the same time so many good qualities, that when I had blown him to bits, I was able to sort the pieces, and throwing on one side the vicious portions to patch him up with the good ones-so successfully indeed that, as I hear, he is nominated for the next Lord Mayorship.

ALL TO PIECES.

WANT OF HEART.

I don't mean to say this was not a success, but he was not the first man I had blown to bits, nor the last that I mean to put together again. Why, when young Lord Aberdeen challenged me to fight with Armstrong's eight-hundred pounders, the pieces into which I blew him were so small that we could not find them all, even with the aid of the oxy-hydrogen microscope—the right lobe of his heart is still imperfect, and his organs of time and tune are altogether wanting. Of course he was glad to accept himself, even on those terms; but he will never fight me again, I believe.

I don't blame him-it is no joke to get me for an antagonist. A party of Irishmen challenged me to a duel with cudgels; as usual, I engaged the whole lot (six hundred and fifty-two) at once, and dealt them such vigorous and constant blows that the striking together of the dry shillelahs caused them to catch fire, and explode the whisky kegs that their wielders carried on their backs. These poor Paddies were all blown to America, where, sad to say, the Federals kidnapped them, all wounded and faint as they fell, and, forming them into a new regiment, called THE BURNT IRISH, sent them off to Grant at once.

THE SHILLELAH FIRE.

Of course it may be said that I was hardly to be held accountable for the blowing up of these Tipperary lads, but the fact is, that I was put upon my trial for it, and only escaped by challenging judge, jury, counsel, and prosecutors. It may be taken as a proof of the hardness of my head and impenetrability of my skin, that of all the bullets fired, only one stopped with me, and that was fired by the judge into my waistcoat pocket, where it stayed, not being able to get out again; as for the

SHOTS RETURNED.

others, they rebounded in so true a line as to return to their senders, and with fatal effect, I can assure you. I did not fire, nor did I intend, until seeing the judge make off (I had his ball in my pocket, you see), I sent a shot after him to help him on his way. An unfortunate one for him though, for since that moment he has been unable to sit on the judicial bench.

He has had to resign.

This was a lesson for them, you may be sure-for them and for all Ireland; so the next person who challenged me was an Icelander, a very different sort of person, I can tell you.

Said I, "Njal Asbjornson, my fire is so tremendous no man can stand it; let us fight with water."

"Agreed!" replied Njal, a man of few words.

COLD COMFORT.

We travelled with large buckets on our shoulders to the coldest part of Iceland, the other side of Hekla, and there, breaking holes in a frozen stream, threw cold water on each other-it congealed on Asbjornson as fast as I threw it, but on me it nearly boiled, so great is the natural heat of my body.

In half an hour Njal Asbjornson was a solid rock of ice. I could see through his cold covering that he was wishing to make a gesture of submission. I lowered my bucket for the last time-I even fancied that he was trying to articulate the word

up,

"GATTI!"

So, feeling how hard it would be to leave him there, all alone and frozen I took him on my shoulder, brought him to London in a steamer, and sold the ice upon him to Gatti, the penny ice inventor, for four hundred pounds.

This was in 1859.

The purchaser informs me it will take till the fifth of November, 1866, to free him from his frosty burden. One thing, however, comforts me: I feel certain that when he is disencumbered he will be none the worse for his cool imprisonment. I am the more impressed with this notion from remembering that when I was last at the North Pole, although I heard the growl of a bear, I could see nothing but a square block of ice. Wishing to see whether ice could growl, I chopped away at it with my axe, until out of it sprang upon me an enormous Polar bear; it jumped at me with open mouth; down his throat I went; my head came out at t'other end. This was fortunate enough, as for several months after I wore this bear for a great coat-a more comfortable, warm, or close-fitting one I never had, I assure you.

BEAR-SKIN COAT.

I do not, however, relate this as a duel with a bear-I once had one

with a brown bear, in the forests of Dalmatia. He had tried to catch me-I had had a great many shots at him-we were tired of our play, so agreed to fight it out.

I to shoot at him twice.

He to hug me once.

I fired twice, but he dodged round the trees, so that I could not hit him. "Very well!" I cried; so when he came to hug me, I slipped over me an old tar barrel, out of which I had knocked the bottom. He hugged the tough old staves till they creaked again, while I was laughing to myself inside but lo! when Bruin, tired of his embrace, tried to release himself from me, he left his beautiful brown skin sticking to the barrel. I have it now at home, and he, poor fellow, wanders about the Dalmatian forests a naked and a melancholy spectacle.

A BEAR SKIN.

CHEATS NEVER

THRIVE.

Mind, I do not consider myself to blame in this matter-had he not dodged me I should not have skinned him. I always give as good as I take. There was Admiral Dahlgrens, of the Federal Navy, when he invented his celebrated rifled cannon (three-mile range), he offered to fight me with that "arm." I accepted. Of course we had " telescope attachment; "but even then, though posted on the opposite peaks of two high mountains, could hardly see each other. He fired first, and missed me by forty yards. I then fired and struck the piece of rock on which he had been standing, little thinking he would shift his position so soon as he saw the ball coming. He fired a second time, and missed me by twenty yards only; but, before I fired again, I simply broke my shot into four pieces, so that when fired it might spread a little. The result was, that one fragment struck the ground where the Admiral ought to have been, another smashed the cannon, a third blew up the ammunition, and the fourth came tripping after Dahlgrens, as he was running down the peak of the mountain, and finished him in no time.

Not that I like these long ranges; they are very trying to the eyesight, and not to be depended on. Now, locked in a room, with nothing but a good mahogany table between you and your antagonist, you may blaze away merrily. I tried it once, in New York, with Horace Greely.

The table was six feet across.

We exchanged five-and-twenty shots. At the conclusion, Greely was quietly carried out and buried by the staff of the Tribune, whilst I, having caught the quarter of a hundred bullets between my teeth, suffered from no worse inconvenience

MOUTHFUL OF LEAD.

than a mouthful of lead. It is true that one slipped down my throat; but as it still remains in my stomach, and assists digestion, I do not care for that.

Talking of digestion, the other day the Prince of Wales came to me, complaining that his stomach was out of order, yet he could not take pills-never could.

I soon settled it for him. He stood at one hundred yards, with his mouth wide open. I loaded my twelve-shot revolver

CURE FOR INDIGES-
TION.

with a box of Cockle's pills, and fired straight down his throat. He has been well ever since.

I do not mean to say that this mode of administering medicine is a very safe one.

I remember one day trying it on Mr. Darby Griffith, M.P., when, as he shifted his position, one pill went up his nose, and DARBY GRIFFITH's made him sneeze his head off. I don't think it made much difference to him.

HEAD.

But to make an end of duels. For I am not proud of them, although I have tried all sorts.

In Paris, a suffocation contest, with charcoal

ANOTHER MODEST fumes.

LIST.

In Mexico, on horseback, fighting as we rode.

We

In Russia, a duel in bed, by way of a change. I fought a jumping duel with the chief-elder of the "Jumpers." jumped three times, and then shot. I managed to jump over all the bullets but one, and what became of that I do not know, excepting that, when I fought my hopping duel with the Kentish hoppers, I heard it rattle.

In America, a running duel, with a general of the Federal army. My cracker duel, with Mortram, or "Old Fireworks," as he is called.

My drinking duel, with George Cruikshank.

My starvation duel, with the crossing-sweepers.

My pickaxe duel, with the navvies.

My cleaver duel, with the Whitechapel butchers.

My barrel-of-powder duel, with Sir William Armstrong.

My boiling water duel, with the engine-drivers of the London, Chat

ham, and Doverrated Railway.

My single-stick duel, in Zomerzetshire.

My bowie-knife

But there! I think you have heard quite enough of them.

THE "SAN FIORENZO " AND HER CAPTAIN.

Narrated by ADMIRAL M

W. H. G. KINGSTON.

to

THERE

HERE was not a happier ship in the service, when I joined her towards the end of the year 1794, than the gallant San Fiorenzo, Captain Sir Harry Burrard Neale, and those were not days when ships were reckoned little paradises afloat, even by enthusiastic misses or sanguine young midshipmen. They were generally quite the other thing.

The crews of many ships found it that other thing, and the officers of course found it so likewise. If the men are not contented, the officers must be uncomfortable; and, at the same time, I will say, from my experience, that when a ship gained the title of a hell-afloat, it was always in consequence of the officers not knowing their duty, or not doing it. Pride, arrogance, and an utter disregard for the feelings of those beneath them in rank, was too prevalent among the officers of the service, and was the secret of the calamitous events which occasionally happened about that time.

My noble commander was not such an one as those of whom I have spoken. There were some like him, but not many his equals. I may truly say of him "that he belonged to the race of Admirals of which the navy of Old England has a right to be proud; that he was a perfect seaman, and a perfect gentleman." "He was one of the most humane, brave, and zealous commanders that ever trod a deck, to whom every man under him looked up as a father." I was with him for many, very many years-from my boyish days to manhood-and I may safely say that I never saw him in a passion, or even out of temper, though I have seen him indignant; and never more so than when merit-the merit of the junior officers of the service-has been overlooked or disregarded. I never heard him utter an oath, and I believe firmly that he never allowed one to escape his lips. I will say of him what I dare say of few men, that, in the whole course of his life, he was never guilty of an act unworthy of the character of a Christian and a gentleman. I was with him when his career was run—