I cull from an old newspaper the story of the black currant duel, a quarrel that was settled happily, without letting of blood. It happened out in the direction of Ainslie's Park; in fact it concerned Mr. Ainslie himself. For those of the younger generation who may not know where Ainslie's Park was, we may say that it was situated at the west end of Aberdeen Avenue and this episode took place not far from (the old) Hillfield Boy's School.
Please remember, it was in the good old days, when "affairs of honour" were settled conclusively by gentlemen. Mr. Ainslie considered that he had received a rude touch in a spot where his higher susceptibilities were involved. It so occurred that a Scottish gentleman of good family (most likely inadvertently) had insulted Mr. Ainslie and the latter challenged him to mortal combat. Friends considered the affair of too slight a nature to grow into the quarrel which ensued, but it seemed that no line of reasoning was potent enough to call the principals off. The time and meeting place of the duel were arranged by the seconds and when the time came the principals proceeded to the appointed place, neither daring to express the wish that must have been uppermost in his mind, that the whole fool business should be called off, as they were not angry to the point of wishing to kill, in fact could scarcely remember how the quarrel started.
Fate stepped in, in the form of a witty woman, whose intuition turned what might have been tragedy into a comedy. It was the wife of the Scottish gentleman who rose to the occasion. Up to the moment when her husband parted from her that morning she had not known that a duel was in the offing, though she had felt that he was unduly depressed and nervous. On his leaving, when he turned back at the door to take her in his arms and kiss her twice very tenderly, she was sure that something was amiss. And somehow, perhaps knowing of the quarrel, she jumped to the right solution - he was going to a duel!
Now the lady was not minded to be turned into a widow for such a slight and insufficient reason and her action was prompt and efficient. Knowing the seconds well, she sent them a bottle of black currant jam, with instructions that when it came time to load pistols for the duel as was of course the custom, to put in "three fingers of powder and ram down the wad", they should, instead of inserting the balls, fill the space with currant jam. This was done by the seconds who heartily agreed with the opinion of the wife, while the angry contestants glared at each other and paid little attention to the loading of their weapons.
Imagine the result! Gingerly the principals stepped off the required space and faced each other. At the appointed count both fired - and at once their faces were covered with a mushy black substance that slowly trickled down on to their collars and over their vests. The scene had turned from the tragic to the ridiculous. A suppressed titter broke somewhere, then both principals and seconds rolled about in spasms of helpless laughter. We are told that the two gentlemen were reasoned with and finally shook hands and resume their friendship.