of all this; _tenax propositi_,
he would listen to no explanation--unconditional, absolute, Chinese
submission were his only terms, and with these we were obliged to
comply. And yet how very ridiculous was the power he assumed. Was any
thing more common in practice than to write the lives of distinguished
men, even before their death, and who ever heard of the individual
seeking legal redress against his biographer except for libel? "Come,
come, Arthur," said we to ourselves, "this threat affrights us not. Here
we begin Chap. XIV.--"

Just then we turned our eyes mechanically towards the pile of manuscript
at our elbow, and could not help admiring the philosophy with which _he_
spoke of condemning to the flames the fruit of _our_ labour. Still
it was evident, that Mr. O'Leary's was no _brutem fulmen_, but very
respectable and downright thunder; and that in fact we should soon be,
where, however interesting it may make a young lady, it by no means
suits an elderly gentleman to be, viz.--in Chancery.

"What's to be done?" was the question, which like a tennis-ball we
pitched at each other. "We have it," said we. "We'll start at once for
Edenderry, and bring this with us," pointing to our manuscript. "We'll
show O'Leary how near immortality he was, and may still be, if not
loaded with obstinacy: We'll read him a bit of our droll, and some
snatches of our pathetic passages. Well show him how the 'Immortal
George' intends to represent him. In a word, we'll enchant him with
the fascinating position to which we mean to exalt him and before the
evening ends, obtain his special permission to deal with him, as before
now we have done with his betters, and--print him."

Our mind made up, no time was to be lost. We took our place in the
Grand Canal passage-boat for Edenderry; and wrapping ourselves up in our
virtue, and another thin garment they call a Zephyr, began our journey.

We should have liked well, had our object permitted it, to have
made some brief notes of our own "Loiterings." But the goal of our
wanderings, as well as of our thoughts, was ever before us, and we spent
the day imagining to ourselves the various modes by which we should
make our advances to the enemy, with most hope of success. Whether the
company themselves did not afford any thing very remarkable, or our own
preoccupation prevented our noticing it, certes, we jogged on, without
any consciousness that we were not perfectly alone, and this for some
t