This I felt to be most unjust, because, as I have said before, I was already engaged upon the press. My work was not remunerative, but it was regularly done. “I am afraid of nothing,” said I, “but distrust. You can move a mountain if you will only believe that you can move it.” “Just so;--but in order to avoid the confusion consequent on general motion among the mountains, I and other men have been created without that sort of faith.” It was always so with my poor friend, and, consequently, he is now Attorney-General at a Turtle Island. Had he believed as I did,--he and Jack,--I still think that the “Panjandrum” might have been a great success. “Don’t you look so glum,” he went on to say. “I’ll stick to it, and do my best. I did put Lord Bateman into rhymed Latin verse for you last night.” Then he repeated to me various stanzas, of which I still remember one:-- “Tuam duxi, verum est, filiam, sed merum est; Si virgo mihi data fuit, virgo tibi redditur. Venit in ephippio mihi, et concipio Satis est si triga pro reditu conceditur.” This cheered me a little, for I thought that Pat was good at these things, and I was especially anxious to take the wind out of the sails of “Fraser” and Father Prout. “Bring it with you,” said I to him, giving him great praise. “It will raise our spirits to know that we have something ready.” He did bring it; but “Lydia” required to have it all translated to her, word by word. It went off heavily, and was at last objected to by the lady. For the first and last time during our debates Miss Collins ventured to give an opinion on the literary question under discussion. She agreed, she said, with her friend in thinking that Mr. Regan’s Latin poem should not be used. The translation was certainly as good as the ballad, and I was angry. Miss Collins, at any rate, need not have interfered.