Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1896-06-24

were present on each side, besides a sur
geon, in case of accident. 1t seemed a
foregone conclusion that Mr.. Spencer
would lose his life, for he was not cred
tied with much courage, and he was a
most Indifferent marksman. Mr.. Spen-
Ger and his friends were first on the
feld, followed soon after by the oppo-
site party. Mr. Wallingford looked
pale, but walked with his accustomed
swagger, until he happened to meet his
opponents eye, when he seemed to
cover.
The preliminary arrangements were
soon made, the men stood opposite each
other, and at the word both fired to-
gether. Mr.. Spencer remained standing,
but Mr.. Wallingford was seen to stag
ger and fall upon his face. All the spec
tators crowded round the PROSTATE man,
and the surgeon turned him over to dis
cover the wound, but could find none.
Presently Mr.. Wallingford opened mis-
eyes, and they asked him where he was
hurt. He looked puzzled for a moment,
then muttering, 81 am not hurt" he
got up, and walked off the field alone.
His coward heart had failed him before
the calm courage of his opponent.
Not many days afterward Mr.. Wal
lingford found business to take him
away from the neighborhood We heard,
some months afterward that he was
married TO wealthy widow in Boston,
but we never saw him in our part Of the
country again.
Mr.. Spencer was, of course, the hero
of the hour, ionized and honored by ev-
cry one. If he had chosen, he could
have had the pick of the bellies Of the
country, even myself, if he had asked
me again. Thou wilt not betray my con-
fidence? I have told thee things that
even my locked journal does not know.
I have lived heart to heart with my
husband for over SO years, and know
his every thought, but yet there are
some little things with which I have
not thought fit to trouble him. This
was the only duel fought for me. 1t is
dreadful, even now, to reflect that two
men took their lives in their hands for
my sake. Ii either had died, I think
would have entered a convent, to spend
the rest of my days in prayer.
Mr. Spencer and I remained good
friends until his departure for the
south, which journey he took in the
spring following the duel. His chival-
rous soul would not allow him to profit
by the advantage he had gained by his
display Of bravery. Instead Of renewing
his suit to ne he treated me as broth
er, nor could l desire dearer brother
than himself. He perceived that was
interested in the Saxbys, and usually
led our talk to his friends
He told me curious legend about
them, which I will repeat. It seems
that the Sax5ys had been Quakers ever
since the was first established, al
ways intei. ,rfying with Quakers. For
a number CT generations there had only
been one SOL in each generation to take
the name. Daughters had been born,
but only one son. The legend, Mr. Spen
Ger told me, was that witch had put
curse upon the family, to the effect that
the male line should never wax greater,
and that the family would die out for
want OF an heir to take the name if ever
a. SSaxby married any but Quaker. Mr.
Spencer says it is coincidence, and the
coincidence has given rise to the legend,
and my husband says it is the will of
God, but these witches have strange
powers, and I have never had son!
X Il
My grandmother ceased speaking,
then appeared to listen, while pretty
color mounted to her cheek. "He is
comingp' she murnured. "He must not
see my cap awry!' SO saying she stepped
to mirror to adjust the cap of lace and
ribbons which she wore, one Of the
"vanities" she affected to despise, yet
loved SO dearly.
eff I had become Quaker" +" she
continued, touching with deft fingers
the soft white curls upon her forehead,
81 must have given up these gay colors,
and this cherry red ribbon becomes mel"
now heard my grandfather's step
approach, and soon his tall form stood
in the docr My grandparents advanced
to meet each other with outstretched
hands, to exchange the kiss without
which they never met or parted even
for the shortest interval, and SO they
stood, smiling into each others eyes
lovers still.-Fred Stamper in New
York Evening Post.