and unnatural practice. Those who would have all wars to cease would merely give us over to the dead-rot of peace. The sickly preachers who dab their mouths with soft handkerchiefs and pray for the universal season of peace, forget that St. Paul in his inspired epistles found his favourite images in the camp and panoplies of war, recognising the virtues that make at once the good soldier in the field and the good soldier of Christ.*

* Let us be done with paying out the greased coin of cant and saying that war is murderous, and that the armed contest of man with man, is a relic of barbarism; and let us have the courage to carry a principle, once admitted, to all its consequences. As circumstances will arise in the life of nations justifying war, creating the necessity for it, making it a useful and honourable exercise, so in the community there will be occasions of individual combat. An outery has been raised against the duello, when the fact is that the duello is simply the unit of war, justifiable on the same grounds— war in fact reduced to its simplest form, that form the best-matched, and therefore the most honourable. It is said that the duello is unequal, and yet after all, whatever may be the difference of skill in arms, what other form of combat is more equal than that where a code of honor gives to the antagonists the same weapon, and attempts every expedient of fairness, within the range of man's natural and moral invention. Is the combat of mere physical strength more equal, where the strong man strikes down the weak; or that of cunning, where the simple man is at the mercy of the villain; or that of words, where the pure and honourable have to compete with the foul libeller, and the ingenious liar? But it is said that the law affords redress, and that the injured party should in all things complain to it. Do we not know and feel that the law takes no account of the sensibilities; and that pecuniary damages do not satisfy the wounds of honour, the murdered peace of one's family, the libel, the seduction, the nameless outrages of cowardly villany. To those who would hiss down the duello, we would reply with calm reason that, as the unit of war, it is as justifiable as war itself; that it is the most equal form of combat yet devised; and that, in a certain class of outrages, it is the only effective mode of redress. These are solid considerations in opposition to a mere clamour. Those who exclaim against the duello, are generally those who shrink from a just responsibility for their acts, and prefer to keep their own advantages in the unequal contest of underhanded villainy and dirty words. When Master Bridgenorth pleaded conscientious scruples, and refused to accept the cartel of Sir Peveril, the old knight well replied: "In return for your nucivil advice, be pleased to accept of mine, namely: that as your religion prevents your giving a gentleman satisfaction, it ought to make you very cautious of offering him provocation."

It is to be hoped, indeed, that the duello, as a peculiar institution of combat among the people of the South, may be long preserved and cherished by them, and that, even when the aping spirit of Puritanism may invade their Legislatures and Courts, the legal authorities may, in this respect, be disarmed by public opinion. This institution of combat should be prized by the South as a noble inheritance, a relic of chival ry, an honourable peculiarity, the best element of their social system; at once a genius of civilization, a teacher of manners, and a guardian of the household. We believe that the time will yet come when the world, often governed as it is by a mere

But we return to the subject of our sketch. We have already referred to the fact of Bishop Polk's education as a military man. He also belonged to a family that had been distinguished in arms, and was connected with the early traditions of American liberty. He was born in Raleigh, North Carolina, about the year 1808. His father, the late Col. William Polk, was a highly meritorious and distinguished soldier in the Revolutionary war. He was a near relation of Thomas Polk, who was in the van of the few intrepid spirits that inaugurated the freedom of the American colonies, by issuing the famous Mecklenburg declaration of independence.

Young Polk acquired the elementary part of his education at an excellent academy in his native State. His father, however, having an earnest desire that his son should adopt the military profession, availed himself of the earliest opportunity that presented to place him at West Point. Here he remained the usual term; and upon his graduation, instead of entering the army, he resolved to engage in the peaceful calling of the ministry. Accordingly he applied for, and took orders in the Protestant Episcopal Church. In 1838, he received an appointment as Missionary Bishop in Arkansas and part of the Indian Territory, with a provisional charge

clamour, will take a second thought on this subject, and be anxious to restore an institution of combat that has been replaced by unmatched methods of controversy, scan. dalous inventions, and every vile and dirty expedient. It is the duello that truly protects the weak against the strong, silences the bully, gives the lesson to the powerful villain, compels decency of manners, purifies the language of conversation, raises the tone of society, puts under stern guard the integrity of the household, and gives protection against that, of which Charles Dickens says, referring to the newspaper press in the northern cities of America:

"It has its evil eye in every house, and its black hand in every appointment in the State, from a president to a postman; with ribald slander for its only stock in trade. * * * When any man of any grade of desert in intellect or character can climb to any public distinction, no matter what, in America, without first grovelling down upon the earth, and bending the knee before this monster of depravity; when any private excellence is safe from its attacks, and when any social confidence is left unbroken by it, or any tie of social decency or honour is held in the least regard; when any man in that Free Country has freedom of opinion, and presumes to think for himself, without humble reference to a censorship, which for its rampant ignorance and base dishonesty he utterly loathes and despises in his heart; when those who most acutely feel its infamy and the reproach it casts upon the nation, and who most denounce it to each other, dare to set their heels upon it, and crush it openly in the sight of all men-then I will believe its influence is lessening."

of the diocese of Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, and the Republic of Texas. In 1841, he was ordained regular Bishop of Louisiana, and held that post for twenty years.

His personal appearance, even at the sacred desk, was decidedly military, and in every word and glance he bore the impress of the soldier rather than that of the divine. He was a large, well-proportioned man, with florid complexion and intellectual face. His hair was slightly grey, and his whiskers, which had the military cut, were completely so. His eyes were grey and keen, his nose of the Roman order and his mouth sunken, with straight and tightly compressed lips. Affable in manner, agreeable in conversation, there was yet an expression of unconquerable determination in his countenance, and the air of one accustomed to command. anecdote describes with great neatness and character the tout ensemble of the man. Stopping at the house of a Mississippi planter, when engaged in his early missionary labours in the Southwest, his host addressed him at the table as General. Being corrected and told he was Bishop Polk, the man replied quickly, "I knew he was a commanding officer in the department to which he belonged."

An

As Missionary Bishop in a wild country, and among a lawless population, he had a field of singular adventure, and we find him sometimes displaying a "muscular Christianity," in keeping with his character and constitutional bravery, and not out of place among the rude and turbulent men by whom he was often surrounded. There is a collection of anecdotes in this portion of his life, some of which we quote as showing the character of the man, and exhibiting a curious picture of the society in which he was first called to break the bread of life.

Upon one occasion, descending one of the Southwestern rivers in a small steamer, the boat struck a snag and sank. The passengers got ashore with part of their baggage, when it was proposed to walk some seventy miles to the nearest port, the chances for another boat overtaking them speedily being very slight. The Bishop, an excellent mechanic, thought the boat could be raised, and submitted a plan to the captain, who begged him to undertake it. With the aid of the crew and some deck passengers, this was accomplished; when, a boat passing, the Bishop, with the others, went to the next town below. Here, on asking the inn-keeper if

there was a place for holding church services, he was told that there never had been any preaching in the town, and that they did not want it, and that he would be mobbed if he attempted it; however, if Mr. ——, the principal merchant in the place, would agree, they would not object. On being applied to, Mr.'s exclamation was: "I left New England to get rid of preaching, and don't want it here." His consent, however, having been obtained, arrangements were being made for service on the following Sunday. Flatboatmen, always a lawless set, being in strong force in the town, declared there should be no preaching, and if it was attempted they would break it up. In the meantime, the steamer which the Bishop had assisted in raising came down, and the hands hearing of this, said "this was not a common preacher, he knew how to work, and if he chose to preach he should preach, and they would like to see the flatboat-men who would hinder it." A row between the parties was apprehended, but the steamboat hands being most numerous, the boatmen were quiet, and the services passed off without disturbance, a very large and attentive congregation being present. Four years after, the Bishop made another visit to this town, and was told there had been no preaching there since his last visit.

An incident is often related which occurred at the mouth of White River. The Bishop, from constant living in the open air, a great deal of exercise, and very temperate habits, had acquired an appearance of robust health. He always wore, even in the days of thin boots, soles as thick as the present Balmoral, and had an overcoat of pilot cloth capable of resisting all weathers. Landing at the mouth of White River, to take a boat for Little Rock, he found the regular packet did not leave until an early hour in the morning, and that no one was allowed to sleep on board. He was therefore compelled to go to the tavern, which at that time enjoyed a most unenviable reputation as the resort of robbers, gamblers, and cut-throats, the former members of Murrell's gang. There was no one in the miserable place but himself. He sat with the landlord by the fire until some time after dark, when the innkeeper advised him, if he wished a place to sleep, to secure it be fore the boys came in, as they were now drinking and gambling on board the flatboats at the wharf, and would be up before long. He was accordingly shown into a long room, with more than a

dozen beds, none of the cleanest in the world, where his host left him to go to bed, by the light of a candle stuck in a bottle. Everything was so exceedingly filthy that, protecting his head with a silk handkerchief, he turned up the collar of his coat, took off his boots, which he placed by the side of his bed-which, by the way, he had chosen near the door-and composed himself to sleep. About midnight he was aroused by the rush of feet up the stairs, and in a few moments the room was filled with men, who began to undress as soon as they entered, and appropriated the various beds. One man was left out, and coming to the side of the bed, he said, addressing himself to the Bishop: "Well, stranger, I am going to turn in with you." The Bishop merely looked up, and said: "You cannot come here, sir." "Oh! there's two to that— I'm coming." "You cannot come here, sir." "You do not mean it-I am coming," accompanied by a volley of oaths. "You cannot come here, sir," was still the quiet answer to this. The man began to falter, evidently not liking the appearance of determination. The others called out not to quarrel with the fellow, they would settle with him in the morning, and they would make room for their companion in one of the other beds.

Early in the morning, while they were in their drunken slumbers, Bishop Polk was up and away, steaming up the river. On reaching Little Rock he met some old friends, and on chancing to mention this, they told him men had been killed in that house for much less, and they considered it a wonderful escape. One asked, "Did the fellow see those boots?" "Yes, they were at the side of the bed." "Ah! that accounts for it. He concluded any man who wore such boots and such a coat, and was so quiet, must be armed to the teeth, and was certain if he had touched the bed he would have been shot." The Bishop's ignorance of the risk rur saved him; but his constitutional bravery never allowed him to hesitate a moment for fear of consequences.

On entering the Confederate service as Major-General, he received a command which extended from the mouth of the Arkansas River, on both sides of the Mississippi, to the northern limits of the Confederate States, and took in the encampment at Corinth. His first notable action in this department was the battle of Belmont (November 7, 1861), in which the Federal General Grant secured a landing on the Missouri shore, nearly opposite the town