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--he forgets your larcenies in your
commendation of him, and in your abuse of others. If his work be
correct, so must yours be; he praises it everywhere--perhaps finds you
out, and asks you to dine with him.
_Ansard_. How should I ever look at his injured face?
_Barnstaple_. On the contrary, he is the obliged party--your travels
are a puff to his own.
_Ansard_. But, Barnstaple, allowing that I follow this part of your
advice, which I grant to be very excellent, how can I contradict others,
when they may be, and probably are, perfectly correct in their
assertions?
_Barnstaple_. If they are so, virtue must be its own reward. It is
necessary that you write a book of travels, and all travellers
contradict each other--ergo, you must contradict, or nobody will believe
that you have travelled. Not only contradict, but sneer at them.
_Ansard_. Well, now do explain how that is to be done.
_Barnstaple_. Nothing more simple: for instance, a man measures a
certain remarkable piece of antiquity--its length is 747 feet. You must
measure it over again, and declare that he is in error, that it is only
727. To be sure of your being correct, measure it _twice_ over, and
then convict him.
_Ansard_. But surely, Barnstaple, one who has measured it is more
likely to be correct than one who has not.
_Barnstaple_. I'll grant you that he is correct to half an inch--that's
no matter. The public will, in all probability, believe you, because
you are the last writer, and because you have _decreased_ the
dimensions. Travellers are notorious for amplification, and if the
public do not believe you, let them go and measure it themselves.
_Ansard_. A third traveller may hereafter measure it, and find that I
am in the wrong.
_Barnstaple_. Ten to one if you are not both in the wrong; but what
matter will that be? your book will have been sold.
_Ansard_. Most true, O king! I perceive now the general outline, and I
feel confident that, with your kind assistance, I may accomplish it.
But, Barnstaple, the beginning is everything. If I only had the first
chapter as a start, I think I could get on. It is the _modus_ that I
want--the style. A first chapter would be a key-note for the remainder
of the tune, with all the variations.
_Barnstaple_. Well, then, take up your pen. But before I commence, it
may be as well to observe, that there is a certain method required, even
in writing travels. In every chapter yo
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