Mr. Winkle was always remarkable for extreme humanity. It is conjectured that his unwillingness to hurt a fellow-creature intentionally was the cause of his shutting his eyes when he arrived at the fatal spot; and that the circumstance of his eyes being closed, prevented his observing the very extraordinary and unaccountable demeanour of Doctor Slammer. That gentleman started, stared, retreated, rubbed his eyes, stared again; and, finally, shouted "Stop, stop!"
"What's all this?" said Doctor Slammer, as his friend and Mr. Snodgrass came running up; "That's not the man."
"Not the man!" said Dr. Slammer's second.
"Not the man!" said Mr. Snodgrass.
"Not the man!" said the gentleman with the camp-stool in his hand.
"Certainly not," replied the little Doctor. "That's not the person who insulted me last night."
"Very extraordinary!" exclaimed the officer.
"Very," said the gentleman with the camp-stool. "The only question is, whether the gentleman, being on the ground, must not be considered, as a matter of form, to be the individual who insulted our friend, Doctor Slammer, yesterday evening, whether he is really that individual or not:" and having delivered this suggestion, with a very sage and mysterious air, the man with the camp-stool took a large pinch of snuff, and looked profoundly round, with the air of an authority in such matters.
Now Mr. Winkle had opened his eyes, and his ears too, when he heard his adversary call out for a cessation of hostilities; and perceiving by what he had afterwards said, that there was, beyond all question, some mistake in the matter, he at once foresaw the increase of reputation he should inevitably acquire by concealing the real motive of his coming out: he therefore stepped boldly forward, and said--
"I am not the person. I know it."
"Then, that," said the man with the camp-stool, "is an affront to Dr. Slammer, and a sufficient reason for proceeding immediately."
"Pray be quiet, Payne," said the Doctor's second. "Why did you not communicate this fact to me this morning, sir?"
"To be sure--to be sure," said the man with the camp-stool, indignantly.
"I entreat you to be quiet, Payne," said the other. "May I repeat my question, sir?"
"Because, sir," replied Mr. Winkle, who had had time to deliberate upon his answer, "because, sir, you described an intoxicated and ungentlemanly person as wearing a coat which I have the honour, not only to wear, but to have invented--the proposed uniform, sir, of the Pickwick Club in London. The honour of that uniform I feel bound to maintain, and I therefore, without inquiry, accepted the challenge which you offered me."
"My dear sir," said the good-humoured little Doctor, advancing with extended hand, "I honour your gallantry. Permit me to say, sir, that I highly admire your conduct, and extremely regret having caused you the inconvenience of this meeting, to no purpose."
"I beg you won't mention it, sir," said Mr. Winkle.
"I shall feel proud of your acquaintance, sir," said the little Doctor.