u are making game
of me."

"I should as much scorn to make game of any one, as you would scorn to
imitate any one, Mr. Parkinson."

"Well, so much the better for us both. But we'll now talk of my affair.
Are you man enough to give me an opinion upon it?"

"Quite so," said I, "Mr. Parkinson. I understand the case clearly, and I
unhesitatingly assert that any action for battery brought against you
would be flung out of court, and the bringer of said action be obliged to
pay the costs, the original assault having been perpetrated by himself
when he flung the liquor in your face; and to set your mind perfectly at
ease I will read to you what Lord Chief Justice Blackstone says upon the
subject."

"Thank you," said Parkinson, after I had read him an entire chapter on
the rights of persons, expounding as I went along. "I see you understand
the subject, and are a respectable young man--which I rather doubted at
first from your countenance, which shows the folly of taking against a
person for the cast of his face or the glance of his eye. Now, I'll
maintain that you are a respectable young man, whoever says to the
contrary; and that some day or other you will be an honour to your
profession and a credit to your friends. I like chapter and verse when I
ask a question, and you have given me both; you shall never want my good
word; meanwhile, if there is anything that I can oblige you in--"

"There is, Mr. Parkinson, there is."

"Well, what is it?"

"It has just occurred to me that you could give me a hint or two at
versification. I have just commenced, but I find it no easy matter, the
rhymes are particularly perplexing."

"Are you quite serious?"

"Quite so; and to convince you, here is an ode of Ab Gwilym which I am
translating, but I can get no farther than the first verse."

"Why, that was just my case when I first began," said Parkinson.

"I think I have been tolerably successful in the first verse, and that I
have not only gotten the sense of the author, but that alliteration,
which, as you may perhaps be aware, is one of the most peculiar features
of Welsh poetry. In the ode to which I allude the poet complains of the
barbarity of his mistress, Morfydd, and what an unthankful task it is to
be the poet of a beauty so proud and disdainful, which sentiment I have
partly rendered thus:--

_Mine is a task by no means merry_,

in which you observe that the first word of the line and the last two
commenc