A Coon Avenger.
--A certain English gentleman, who was a regular frequenter of the green-room of Drucy Lane Theatre in the days of Lord Byron's committee, and who always stood quietly on the hearth- rug there with his back to the fire, was in his usual place one night, when a narrative was related by another gentleman, newly returned from the continent, of a barrier duel that had taken place in
Paris.
A young Englishman — a mere boy — had been despoiled in a gambling house in the
Palaces Royal, and charged a certain gaming
Count with cheating him; had gone out with the
Count, wasted his fire, and had been slain by the
Count, under the frightful circumstances of the
Count's walking up to him, laying his hand on his heart, saying: ‘ "You are a brave fellow, have you a mother?"’ And, on his replying in the affirmative, remarking coolly, ‘"I am sorry for her,"’ and blowing his brains out. The gentleman on the hearth-rug paused in taking his snuff to hear the story, and observed, with great placidity, ‘"I am afraid I must kill that rascal."’ A few nights elapsed, during which the green-room hearth-rug was without him, and then he reappeared precisely as before, and only incidentally mentioned, in the course of the evening, ‘ "Gentlemen, I killed that rascal,"’ He had gone over to
Paris on purpose, and tracked the
Count to the same gambling house, had thrown a glass of wine in his face in the presence of the company assembled there, had told him that he had come to avenge his young compatriot — and had done it by putting the
Count out of the world, and coming back to the hearth-rug as if nothing had happened.
