“Then Natty filled the ‘Statesman’s’ ribald page With the rank breathings of his prurient age, And told the world how many a half-bred Miss, Like Shakspere’s fairy, gave an ass a kiss; Long did he try the art of sinking on The muddy pool he took for Helicon; Long did he delve and grub with fins of lead At its foul bottom for precarious bread.… Dishonest critic and ungrateful friend, Still on a woman[4] thy stale jokes expend. Live--at thy meagre table still preside, While foes commiserate and friends deride; Yet live--thy wonted follies to repeat, Live--till thy printer’s ruin is complete; Strut out thy fleeting hour upon the stage, Amidst the hisses of the passing age.” Marryat’s article was a stupid one, ungrammatical and coarsely written. But its clumsy malice made it all the more exasperating. Lockhart was a gentleman and Maginn was an Irishman. The former took care not to say too much, and what the latter said was of no consequence. Both of them, besides, were clever writers, and a man of wit and spirit had rather be pricked by a rapier in the hand of a dexterous adversary than pounded on the head by an awkward bully with a bludgeon. Willis made a mistake in noticing Marryat’s article at all, but he was stung by the implied insult to his parents, and his military friends persuaded him that his honor was touched. Accordingly he prepared an elaborate reply in the shape of a letter, dated January 10th, and sent it to Marryat at Brussels, whither the latter had gone about the middle of December, while his article was still in proof.