sad reality, Barnstaple. I shall write this part well, for truth
will guide my pen.

_B._ All the better. But to continue--no remittances--awkward
position--explain your situation--receive credit to any amount--and
compliment your countrymen.

_A._ (_writes._) Credit to any amount--pleasing idea? But I don't
exactly perceive the value of this last hint, Barnstaple.

_B._ All judicious travellers make it a point, throughout the whole of
their works, to flatter the nation upon its wealth, name, and reputation
in foreign countries; by doing so you will be read greedily, and praised
in due proportion. If ever I were to write my travels into the interior
of Africa, or to the North Pole, I would make it a point to discount a
bill at Timbuctoo, or get a cheque cashed by the Esquimaux, without the
least hesitation in either case. I think now that what with your
invention, your plagiarism, and my hints, you ought to produce a very
effective Book of Travels; and with that feeling I shall leave you to
pursue your journey, and receive, at its finale, your just reward. When
we meet again, I hope to see you advertised.

_A._ Yes, but not exposed, I trust. I am _incog._ you know.

_B._ To be sure, that will impart an additional interest to your
narrative. All the world will be guessing who you may be. Adieu,
voyageur. [_Exit Barnstaple._

_A._ And heaven forfend that they should find me out. But what can be
done? In brief, I cannot get a brief, and thus I exercise my
professional acquirements how I can, proving myself as long-winded, as
prosy perhaps, and certainly as lying, as the more fortunate of my
fraternity.

How to write a Romance

_Mr Arthur Ansard, standing at his table, selecting a steel pen from a
card on which a dozen are ranged up, like soldiers on parade._

I must find a regular _graver_ to write this chapter of horrors. No
goose quill could afford me any assistance. Now then. Let me
see----(_Reads, and during his reading Barnstaple comes in at the door
behind him, unperceived._) "At this most monstrously appalling sight, the
hair of Piftlianteriscki raised slowly the velvet cap from off his head,
as if it had been perched upon the rustling quills of some exasperated
porcupine--(I think that's new)--his nostrils dilated to that extent
that you might, with ease, have thrust a musket bullet into each--his
mouth was opened so wide, so unnaturally wide, that the corners were
rent asunder, and the blood slo