'"Down with him!" cried the gentleman in sky-blue, drawing
his sword also, and falling back two or three yards. "Down
with him!" The lady gave a loud scream.
'Now, my uncle was always remarkable for great boldness, and
great presence of mind. All the time that he had appeared so
indifferent to what was going on, he had been looking slily about for
some missile or weapon of defence, and at the very instant when
the swords were drawn, he espied, standing in the chimney-
corner, an old basket-hilted rapier in a rusty scabbard. At one
bound, my uncle caught it in his hand, drew it, flourished it
gallantly above his head, called aloud to the lady to keep out of
the way, hurled the chair at the man in sky-blue, and the scabbard
at the man in plum-colour, and taking advantage of the
confusion, fell upon them both, pell-mell.
'Gentlemen, there is an old story--none the worse for being
true--regarding a fine young Irish gentleman, who being asked if
he could play the fiddle, replied he had no doubt he could, but he
couldn't exactly say, for certain, because he had never tried. This
is not inapplicable to my uncle and his fencing.
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