blisher's tale of an apple and a pear.

I at first felt much inclined to be of the publisher's opinion with
respect to the theory of the pear. After all, why should the earth be
shaped like an apple, and not like a pear?--it would certainly gain in
appearance by being shaped like a pear. A pear being a handsomer fruit
than an apple, the publisher is probably right, thought I, and I will say
that he is right on this point in the notice which I am about to write of
his publication for the Review. And yet I don't know--said I, after a
long fit of musing--I don't know but what there is more to be said for
the Oxford theory. The world may be shaped like a pear, but I don't know
that it is; but one thing I know, which is, that it does not taste like a
pear; I have always liked pears, but I don't like the world. The world
to me tastes much more like an apple, and I have never liked apples. I
will uphold the Oxford theory--besides, I am writing in an "Oxford
Review"--and am in duty bound to uphold the Oxford theory. So in my
notice I asserted that the world was round; I quoted Scripture, and
endeavoured to prove that the world was typified by the apple in
Scripture, both as to shape and properties. "An apple is round," said I,
"and the world is round--the apple is a sour, disagreeable fruit; and who
has tasted much of the world without having his teeth set on edge?" I,
however, treated the publisher, upon the whole, in the most urbane and
Oxford-like manner; complimenting him upon his style, acknowledging the
general soundness of his views, and only differing with him in the affair
of the apple and pear.

I did not like reviewing at all--it was not to my taste; it was not in my
way; I liked it far less than translating the publisher's philosophy, for
that was something in the line of one whom a competent judge had surnamed
Lavengro. I never could understand why Reviews were instituted; works of
merit do not require to be reviewed, they can speak for themselves, and
require no praising; works of no merit at all will die of themselves,
they require no killing. The Review to which I was attached was, as has
been already intimated, established on an entirely new plan; it professed
to review all new publications, which certainly no Review had ever
professed to do before, other Reviews never pretending to review more
than one-tenth of the current literature of the day. When I say it
professed to review all new publication