Morphy said, thereupon, that he should be deprived of the pleasure of crossing swords with the victor in the International Tournament, inasmuch as he must be at home before Christmas. On hearing this, I began to talk the matter over quietly with him, asserting that his voyage to Europe was useless, if he did not play Anderssen. All was of no effect. Morphy did not appear to have the slightest ambition, say what I would to him. He must be at home in December; he had promised to be there, and home he would go. Very well; Morphy and I were at daggers drawn and we began our fight. He said he would go, and I said he shouldn't. He wanted to know how I could prevent him; I told him that all the clubs in Europe would stop him. "Very well," answered he, "I'll be stronger than all Europe." "Bravo," says I, "that's spirited, at all events." Says he--says I--says I--says he--and Morphy went to sleep and I to work. Without saying a word to anybody, I set to writing letters to all the leading Chess Clubs on the Continent and in England, informing them of the bad move Morphy was about to make, and requesting those in the interests of chess to induce him to remain, until at all events he had met Herr Anderssen. Now, the mere fact of Morphy staying, as the simple individual, was nothing; but it was something to make sure beyond all dispute that he was infallibly the best living player; and, in addition, to add many games to the finest pages of chess literature. I am happy to state that the different clubs thought as I did; so the result will prove. After a week or two, Morphy began receiving letters from Amsterdam, Leipsic, Brussels, Berlin, Breslau, etc.; from the London and St. George's Chess Clubs; requisitions signed by the amateurs of the Café and Cercle de la Régence, expressing the earnest wish of all that he would remain throughout the winter. Herr Anderssen wrote him a lengthy epistle, in which he assured him he did not think it possible he could leave Europe without playing him, and adding his voice to the general cry. Morphy thought he must go. Then the society in which our hero was so frequent a visitor began to declare that he really must remain, and it is hard work for any man to refuse when a request is backed by such sweet glances as make requests almost commands.