literally nothing as to their relative chess powers, and I am very unwilling to believe that the American would at all value a victory snatched under such circumstances. Yours obediently, M. A. P. S. Since writing the above my attention has been drawn to a letter in _Bell's Life_ addressed to Mr. Staunton by Mr. Morphy, in which the latter tries to assume the character of a much-injured and ill-used man. Now, how stands the case. From the time when he made his sudden appearance here to the present moment Mr. Morphy has been fully aware that the delay in the proposed contest did not depend upon Mr. Staunton, who, so far as he is personally concerned, was, and is, prepared to play; though it does not speak much for that man's sense of honor who would ever think of forcing on a contest when the inequality is so immense as it is between Mr. Morphy's position and that of Mr. Staunton--the one with literally nothing to do but to go where he lists to play chess, the other with scarcely time for sleep and meals, with his brain in a constant whirl with the strain upon it; the one in the very zenith of his skill, after ten years of incessant practice, the other utterly out of practice for that very period. Now, let any one read the reply of Mr. Staunton to the preposterous proposal on the part of Mr. Morphy's friends, that he (Mr. S.) should go over to New Orleans, and then say whether Mr. Morphy, after publicly announcing in the American papers his inability, from family engagements, to visit England before 1859, and then choosing to come over without a moment's warning, has anybody but himself to blame if he finds there is considerable difficulty in inducing a man with family cares, and immersed in professional engagements, to sacrifice all for the sake of engaging, upon the most unfair and unequal terms, in a match at chess? If Mr. Morphy does not see the force of what I have advanced, perhaps the following analogous case may bring conviction home to him. Let us suppose some ten or fifteen years have elapsed, and that Mr. Morphy, no longer a chess knight-errant, eager to do battle against all comers, has settled down into a steady-going professional man, (the bar, I believe, is his destination,) and with bewildered brain is endeavoring to unravel the intricacies of some half-dozen lawsuits put into his hands by clients, each of whom, in virtue of his fee, is profoundly impressed with the belief that Mr. Morphy belongs, body and soul, to him. Presently comes a rap at the door, and in walks a young man, fresh from school or college, and at once proceeds to explain the object of his visit, with:--"Mr. Morphy, I come to challenge you to a match at chess. I am aware that you are quite out of practice, while