The sadness of the scene imparted a sombre tinge to the feelings of Mr.Winkle.He started as they passed the angle of the trench--it looked like a colossal grave.
The officer turned suddenly from the path, and after climbing a paling, and scaling a hedge, entered a secluded field.

Two gentlemen were waiting in it; one was a little, fat man, with black hair; and the other--a portly personage in a braided surtout--was sitting with perfect equanimity on a camp-stool.
'The other party, and a surgeon, I suppose,' said Mr.Snodgrass; 'take a drop of brandy.' Mr.Winkle seized the wicker bottle which his friend proffered, and took a lengthened pull at the exhilarating liquid.
'My friend, Sir, Mr.Snodgrass,' said Mr.Winkle, as the officer approached.

Doctor Slammer's friend bowed, and produced a case similar to that which Mr.Snodgrass carried.
'We have nothing further to say, Sir, I think,' he coldly remarked, as he opened the case; 'an apology has been resolutely declined.' 'Nothing, Sir,' said Mr.Snodgrass, who began to feel rather uncomfortable himself.
'Will you step forward ?' said the officer.
'Certainly,' replied Mr.Snodgrass.The ground was measured, and preliminaries arranged.

'You will find these better than your own,' said the opposite second, producing his pistols.

'You saw me load them.