on the battle-ground, he had been vainly endeavouring to screw him up to the sticking point, by suggesting, in low whispers, such motives as he thought might operate upon him; but all his efforts were ineffectual. Rivington was, to use a vulgar expression, literally 'scared out of his wits.' When the signal was given for firing, he had essayed to raise his arm, but it was all unstrung by fear, and he could not move it. The sound of Erskine's pistol completed his dismay; he sunk on his knees, dropped his pistol, said he was willing to own he was no gentleman; he would beg Mr. Erskine's pardon, and all the gentlemen's pardon; he would do any thing almost the gentlemen would say.
Jobn Woodhull felt his own reputation implicated by his principal's cowardice; and passionate and reckless, he seized the pistol, and would have discharged the contents at Rivington; but Mr. Lloyd, seeing his intention, caught hold of his arm, wrenched the pistol from him, fired it in the air, and threw it from him. "Shame on thee, young man!" he exclaimed, "does the spirit of murder so possess thee, that it matters not whether thy arm is raised against friend or foe?"
"He is no friend of mine," replied Woodhull, vainly endeavouring to extricate himself from Mr. Lloyd's manly grasp; he is a coward, and by my life and sacred honour!"
"Oh, Mr. Woodhull! sir," interrupted Rivington, "I am your friend, sir, and all the gentlemen's friend, sir. I am much obliged to you, sir," turn-
