“_Propino tibi salulem_--here's to you. No, but let me ask you what you are at, Mr. Hycy? You may have resaved an anonymous letter, but I am ignorant why you should paternize it upon me.” “Why, because it has all the marks and tokens of you.” “Eh?--to what does that amount? Surely you know my handwriting?” “Perfectly; but this is disguised evidently.” “Faith,” said the other, laughing, “maybe the inditer of it was disguised when he wrote it.” “It might be,” replied Hycy; “however, take your liquor, and in the mean time I shall feel exceedingly obliged to you, Mr. Finigan, if you will tell me the truth at once--whether you wrote it or whether you did not?” “My response again is in the negative,” replied Finigan--“I disclaim it altogether. I am not the scribe, you may rest assured of it, nor can I say who is.” “Well, then,” said Hycy, “I find I must convict you yourself of the fabulous at least; read that,” said he, placing the letter in his own hands. “Like a true Irishman you signed your name unconsciously; and now what have you to say for yourself?” “Simply,” replied the other, “that some knave, of most fictitious imagination, has forged my name to it. No man can say that that is my manuscription, Mr. Hycy.” These words he uttered with great coolness; and Hycy, who was in many things a shrewd young fellow, deemed it better to wait until the liquor, which was fast disappearing, should begin to operate. At length, when about three-quarters of an hour had passed, he resolved to attack his vanity. “Well, well, Finigan, as regards this letter, I must say I feel a good deal disappointed.” “Why so, Mr. Hycy?” “Why, because I did not think there was any other man in the country who could have written it.” “Eh? how is that now?” “Faith, it's very simple; the letter is written with surprising ability--the language is beautiful--and the style, like the land of Canaan, flowing with milk and honey. It is certainly a most uncommon production.” “Now, seriously, do you think so? At all events, Mr. Hycy, it was written by a friend of yours--that's a clear case.” “I think so; but what strikes me is its surprising ability; no wonder the writer should say that he is not unknown to fame--he could not possibly remain in obscurity.” “Mr. Hycy, your health--I remember when you were wid me you certainly were _facile princeps_ for a ripe judgment, even in your rudiments; so then, you are of opinion that the epistle in question has janius? I think myself it is no everyday production; not I believe such as the thistle-browser Heffernan, or Misther Demosthenes M'Gosther could achieve--the one wid his mile and a half, and the other wid his three townlands of reputation. No, sir, to the divil I pitch them both; they could never indite such a document. Your health, Mr. Hycy--_propino tibi_, I say; and you are right, _ille ego_--it's a a fact; I am the man, sir--I acknowledge the charge.”