The answer was a smart slap on the face. I instantly struck out in a
state of fury--was stopped with great neatness--and received in return a
blow on the head, which sent me down on the carpet half stunned, and too
giddy to know the difference between the floor and the ceiling.

"Sir," said Gentleman Jones, smoothing down his wristbands again, and
addressing me blandly as I lay on the floor, "I have the honor to inform
you that you have now received your first lesson in politeness. Always
be civil to those who are civil to you. The little matter of
the caricature we will settle on a future occasion. I wish you
good-evening."

The noise of my fall had been heard by the other occupants of rooms on
my landing. Most fortunately for my dignity, they did not come in to see
what was the matter until I had been able to get into my chair again.
When they entered, I felt that the impression of the slap was red on my
face still, but the mark of the blow was hidden by my hair. Under these
fortunate circumstances, I was able to keep up my character among my
friends, when they inquired about the scuffle, by informing them that
Gentleman Jones had audaciously slapped my face, and that I had been
obliged to retaliate by knocking him down. My word in the prison was as
good as his; and if my version of the story got fairly the start of his,
I had the better chance of the two of being believed.

I was rather anxious, the next day, to know what course my polite and
pugilistic instructor would take. To my utter amazement, he bowed to me
as civilly as usual when we met in the yard; he never denied my version
of the story; and when my friends laughed at him as a thrashed man, he
took not the slightest notice of their agreeable merriment. Antiquity,
I think, furnishes us with few more remarkable characters than Gentleman