It may not be inopportune to mention here that I related the foregoing account of the origin of the word "quiz" one day in, I think, the year 1832, at the table of Cornelius Lyne, the facetious and convivial barrister of the Munster Circuit, where he was designated, in contradistinction to the old Irish chieftain, "Con of the hundred _battles_," "Con of the hundred _bottles_." Amongst the guests was a gentleman named Montgomery, who resided in Belfast. On hearing my story, he remarked that a quiz has occasionally produced a reality. He proceeded to tell us that when James Madison was President of the United States, a young man connected with one of the most eminent houses in Belfast, thought fit to make an American tour. Having crossed the Atlantic, he passed upwards of eighteen months to his perfect satisfaction. On his return he was greatly pestered by one of his fellow-townsmen, a pushing, plausible, self-sufficient kind of fellow, for letters of introduction to some American friends, the applicant declaring his intention of visiting all the principal cities of the Union. At length the solicited party replied to an urgent entreaty, by declaring that there was no one with whom he felt himself warranted to take such a liberty except his friend Madison. "The President!" exclaimed the importunate teaser; "why it would be invaluable." Acceding to his request, a letter was written commencing with "My dear Mr. Madison," and conveying the assurance, that the attentions which the writer had received would never be forgotten, and that the recollection of such kindness emboldened him to introduce a friend, in the hope that he would be received with even a portion of that urbanity which had been experienced so agreeably, and remembered so gratefully, by his ever faithful and obliged, &c., &c. The traveller departed, and a considerable time elapsed before he reappeared in Belfast. When he returned, his first visit was to the author of the valuable introduction. "My dear friend," said he, "I presented your letter at a public reception. The President was more than polite, he was extremely cordial. I was invited to several delightful parties, and received the utmost attention. It was, however, very extraordinary, that when I called to pay my farewell visit, he asked me several questions in reference to your personal appearance, remarking that you had lapsed from his recollection." This was not so very surprising, for the President had never seen the man whose letter of introduction for the other had been a thorough quiz. At the conclusion of the anecdote which my narrative had elicited from Mr. Montgomery, Tom Moylan, Mr. Lyne's nephew, contributed another. He remarked that the Belfast man had only quizzed a President, but a Dublin man had completely humbugged a king. When George the Fourth was reigning, a Dublin medical doctor wrote a book. He had a copy splendidly bound for presentation, and then went to