nian is dzow, a word connected with the Tebetian word for water,
and the Chinese shuy, and the Turkish su, signifying the same thing; but
where is the resemblance between dzow and tide? Again, the word for
bread in ancient Armenian is hats; yet the Armenian on London Bridge is
made to say zhats, which is not the nominative of the Armenian noun for
bread, but the accusative: now, critics, ravening against a man because
he is a gentleman and a scholar, and has not only the power but also the
courage to write original works, why did not you discover that weak
point? Why, because you were ignorant, so here ye are held up! Moreover,
who with a name commencing with Z, ever wrote fables in Armenian? There
are two writers of fables in Armenian--Varthan and Koscht, and
illustrious writers they are, one in the simple, and the other in the
ornate style of Armenian composition, but neither of their names begins
with a Z. Oh, what a precious opportunity ye lost, ye ravening crew, of
convicting the poor, half-starved, friendless boy of the book, of
ignorance or misrepresentation, by asking who with a name beginning with
Z ever wrote fables in Armenian; but ye couldn't help yourselves, ye are
duncie. We duncie! Ay, duncie. So here ye are held up by the tails,
blood and foam streaming from your jaws.

The writer wishes to ask here, what do you think of all this, Messieurs
les Critiques? Were ye ever served so before? But don't you richly
deserve it? Haven't you been for years past bullying and insulting
everybody whom you deemed weak, and currying favour with everybody whom
ye thought strong? "_We_ approve of this. We disapprove of that. Oh,
this will never do. These are fine lines!" The lines perhaps some
horrid sycophantic rubbish addressed to Wellington, or Lord So-and-so. To
have your ignorance thus exposed, to be shown up in this manner, and by
whom? A gypsy! Ay, a gypsy was the very right person to do it. But is
it not galling after all?

Ah, but _we_ don't understand Armenian, it cannot be expected that _we_
should understand Armenian, or Welsh, or . . . Hey, what's this? The
mighty _we_ not understand Armenian or Welsh, or . . . Then why does the
mighty _we_ pretend to review a book like Lavengro? From the arrogance
with which it continually delivers itself, one would think that the
mighty _we_ is omniscient; that it understands every language; is versed
in every literature; yet the mighty _we_ does not ev