.

THE DUEL.
It was a morning such as could only be brought into existence by the Maker of mornings in Ireland.

It was a day such as Dublin placed away carefully into the pantechnicon of famous archives.
The city of Dublin was not always clean, but in the bright, gorgeous sun her natural filth was no menace to the eye, no repulse to the senses.
Above the Liffey, even at so early an hour, the heat shimmers like a silver mist.

The bells of churches were ringing, and the great cathedral bells boomed in thrilling monotony over the peaceful city.

Here and there in the shabby yet renowned streets, horsemen moved along; now and then the costermonger raised his cry of fresh fruit, flowers, and "distinguished vegetables." People moved into church doorways on their way to mass or confession--some bright and rather gorgeous beings, some in deep mourning, shy, reserved, and obscure.