We left Zsen over a move at the Pesth café. Herr Löwenthal observing what interest seemed to be taken in chess, thought he should like to try his hand at it, and forthwith pored over such works on the game as he was informed would initiate him into its mysteries. Obtaining a little knowledge, he soon after began playing daily with Zsen, receiving no odds, because, as before stated, Zsen would not give any, upon principle. During eighteen months, Löwenthal never scored one game. But whilst Zsen was away on his travels at Paris and elsewhere, he made rapid progress, particularly in the openings; and on his antagonist's return, he induced him to give the advantage of Pawn and Move, and Zsen lost every game. Returning to even play, the latter won the large majority; but with constant practice, Löwenthal decreased the distance between them, although he never turned the tables upon his adversary. Herr L. considers that, in their best play, Grimm would win three games to Zsen's seven, and four to his six. Most chess-players finished Grimm some years back, but he still flourishes "down East." After the Hungarian agitation of 1848, he fled into Turkey, and is now settled in Aleppo, where, as he turned Mussulman, he no doubt revels. Grimm was a music publisher in Pesth, and, according to Herr Löwenthal, a man of high intelligence, being a celebrated _pianist_ and a thorough proficient in the German, French, Italian, and Latin languages. He was also renowned as a whist-player, and his equal at the billiard-table was not to be found throughout the entire Austrian Empire. His chess was the antithesis of Zsen's, being "brilliant, but not over sound," qualities which find favor with "the gallery," but are dangerous to one's backers in a match. This interesting triumvirate--Zsen, Grimm, Löwenthal--had it all their own way, in Pesth, until July, 1842, when Alexandre came there, and then they had him too. Alexandre brought his Encyclopædia, or the Encyclopædia brought him, and both of them got sold in the Hungarian capital. He thought the idea of anybody there beating him, simply preposterous; but was irresistibly convinced to the contrary when Grimm & Co. did it with so much charming facility, that he told them they were a match for the Paris _Cercle des Echecs_, and advised them to send a challenge forthwith. The triumvirate were shy at first, then did as they were told, and, to their surprise, the Paris Club accepted their _défi_ by return of post, enclosing the first move. The match consisted of two games, and 1,250 francs a side; the reader can learn, on inquiry at Café de la Régence in Paris, who didn't win it.