nor of instructing[17].

Some have had recourse to insipid Allegory[18], thinking to please
by a new Taste; but their Works dy'd in their Birth, and were so
little read that they escaped Criticism.

If the bad Authors were but to reflect on the Talents and
Qualifications necessary for a good Romance, Works of this kind
would no longer be their Refuge. A Man who is press'd both by Hunger
and Thirst, sets about writing a Book, and tho' he has not
Knowledge enough to write History, nor Genius for Works of Morality,
he stains a couple of Quires of Paper with a Heap of ill-digested
Adventures, which he relates without Taste, and without Genius, and
carries his Work to a Bookseller, who, were he oblig'd to buy it by
Weight, and to give him but twice the Cost of the Paper, wou'd pay
more for it than the Worth of it. Perhaps there is as much need for
Wit, an Acquaintance with Mankind, and the Knowledge of the
Passions, to compose a Romance as to write a History. The only
Qualification to paint Manners and Customs, is a long Experience;
and a Man must have examin'd the various Characters very closely, to
be able to describe them to a Nicety.

How can an Author, whose common Vocation is staining of Paper, and
spending his whole Time in a Coffee-house or in a Garret, give a
just Definition of a Prince, a Courtier, or a fine Lady? He never
sees those Persons but as he walks the Streets; and I can scarce
think that the Mud with which he is often dash'd by their Equipages,
communicates to him any Share of their Sentiments. Yet there is not
a wretched Author but makes a Duke and Dutchess speak as he fancies.
But when a Man of Fashion comes to cast his Eye on these ridiculous
Performances, he is perfectly surpriz'd to see the Conversation of
_Margaret_ the Hawker, retail'd by the Name of the Dutchess of ----,
or the Marchioness of ----. Yet be these Books ever so bad,
abundance of 'em are sold; for many People, extravagantly fond of
Novelty, who only judge of Things superficially, buy those Works,
tho' by the Perusal of 'em they acquire a Taste as remote from a
happy Talent of Writing, as the Authors themselves are.

Don't fear, dear _Isaac_, that I shall ever send thee a Collection
of such paultry Books. Be a Man ever so fond at _Constantinople_ of
Romances and Histories of Gallantry, 'tis expected they should serve
not only for Pleasure but for Edification.

The second Book that I have bought, seems to me to be written with
t