Ab Gwilym in my
hands was quite as misty as in his own. Then, seeing that I had not
ventured to take liberties with people who had never put themselves into
my hands for the purpose of being rendered, how could I venture to
substitute my own thoughts and ideas for the publisher's, who had put
himself into my hands for that purpose? Forbid it every proper
feeling!--so I told the Germans in the publisher's own way, the
publisher'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 m