neglect. I know no sensation more delicious than that of inflicting
punishment for insult or for injury; 'tis in our nature.

That youngster of whom I have prated so much, his name is Frank Henley,
denies this, and says that what the world calls nature is habit. He
added, with some degree of sarcasm as I thought, that it was as
natural, or in his sense as habitual, for some men to pardon, and to
seek the good even of those by whom they were wronged, as it was for
others to resent and endeavour to revenge. But, as I have said, he
continually makes pretensions to an offensive superiority. You may
think I do not fail to humble the youth, whenever opportunity offers.
But no! Humble him, indeed! Shew him boiling ice! Stew a whale in an
oyster-shell! Make mount Caucasus into a bag pudding! But do not
imagine he may be moved! The legitimate son of Cato's eldest bastard,
he! A petrified Possidonius, in high preservation!

There is another thing which astonishes me more than all I have
mentioned. Curse me, Fairfax, if I do not believe that [God confound
the fellow!] he has the impudence to be in love with Anna St. Ives! Nay
that he braves me, defies me, and, in the insufferable frothy
fermentation of his vanity, persuades himself that he looks down upon
me!

I must finish, for I cannot think of his intolerable insolence with
common patience; and I know not what right I have to tease you,
concerning my paltry disputes with a plebeian pedant, and my still more
paltry jealousies. But let him beware! If he really have the arrogance
to place himself in my way, I will presently trample him into his
original nonentity. I only forbear because he has had the cunning to
make himself so great a favourite.