SIR,

I have melancholy news to inform you of, by order of the Chevalier Lovelace.  He showed me his letter to you before he sealed it; signifying, that he was to meet the Chevalier Morden on the 15th.  Wherefore, as the occasion of the meeting is so well known to you, I shall say nothing of it here.

I had taken care to have ready, within a little distance, a surgeon and his assistant, to whom, under an oath of secrecy, I had revealed the matter, (though I did not own it to the two gentlemen;) so that they were prepared with bandages, and all things proper.  For well was I acquainted with the bravery and skill of my chevalier; and had heard the character of the other; and knew the animosity of both.  A post-chaise was ready, with each of their footmen, at a little distance.

The two chevaliers came exactly at their time:  they were attended by Monsieur Margate, (the Colonel’s gentleman,) and myself.  They had given orders over night, and now repeated them in each other’s presence, that we should observe a strict impartiality between them:  and that, if one fell, each of us should look upon himself, as to any needful help or retreat, as the servant of the survivor, and take his commands accordingly.

After a few compliments, both the gentlemen, with the greatest presence of mind that I ever beheld in men, stript to their shirts, and drew.

They parried with equal judgment several passes.  My chevalier drew the first blood, making a desperate push, which, by a sudden turn of his antagonist, missed going clear through him, and wounded him on the fleshy part of the ribs of his right side; which part the sword tore out, being on the extremity of the body; but, before my chevalier could recover himself, the Colonel, in return, pushed him into the inside of the left arm, near the shoulder; and the sword (raking his breast as it passed,) being followed by a great effusion of blood, the Colonel said, Sir, I believe you have enough.

My chevalier swore by G—­d he was not hurt; ’twas a pin’s point; and so made another pass at his antagonist; which he, with a surprising dexterity, received under his arm, and run my dear chevalier into the body; who immediately fell; saying, The luck is your’s, Sir—­O my beloved Clarissa!—­Now art thou—­inwardly he spoke three or four words more.  His sword dropt from his hand.  Mr. Morden threw his down, and ran to him, saying in French—­Ah, Monsieur! you are a dead man!——­Call to God for mercy!

We gave the signal agreed upon to the footmen; and they to the surgeons; who instantly came up.

Colonel Morden, I found, was too well used to the bloody work; for he was as cool as if nothing extraordinary had happened, assisting the surgeons, though his own wound bled much.  But my dear chevalier fainted away two or three times running, and vomited blood besides.

However, they stopped the bleeding for the present; and we helped him into the voiture; and then the Colonel suffered his own wound to be dressed; and appeared concerned that my chevalier was between whiles (when he could speak, and struggle,) extremely outrageous.—­Poor gentleman! he had made quite sure of victory!