A LOST ART

Since the passing of the day "when hearts were young and knights were bold," it has been the general impression that duels were no longer au fait. Happily this glorious remnant of chivalry is not yet laid to rest in France and steel once more flashes against steel for so slight a provocation as a disagreement over theatre tickets. Alas, although the spirit flames as before, the flesh lacks practice; the combat ended with a scratch on the throat. So fades the glory of a once splendid art.

This duel reminds one of Mark Twain's experience. As a second to one of the somewhat corpulent participants, he was delegated to stand directly in his principal's rear. At the sight of his opponent's toy pistol, the duelist fainted into Mark Twain's arms, carrying away everything behind him. If one is to believe our humorist, he received thirteen wounds, only seven of them fatal, and enjoyed the distinction of being the first person injured in a French duel in twenty years.

The party most responsible for the decadence of this ancient art is the dry and dusty Law. Individuals in this world have become so bourgeois, so presale, that they no longer consider dispatching their quarrels out of court. It must not be forgotten, however, that there still remains a class of individuals who jealously guard the code of honor the individual nations. And fortunately they guard it so jealously that they are not satisfied by a mere throat wound.