and is the employment of a manufacturer. The author by
profession, weaves his web by the piece, and as there is
much competition in this branch of trade, extends it over
the greatest possible surface, so as to make the most of
his raw material. Hence every work of fancy is made to
reach to three volumes, otherwise it will not pay, and
a manufacture that does not requite the cost of production,
invariably and inevitably terminates in bankruptcy. A
thought, therefore, like a pound of cotton, must be well
spun out to be valuable. It is very contemptuous to say
of a man, that he has but one idea, but it is the highest
meed of praise that can be bestowed on a book. A man,
who writes thus, can write for ever.

Now, it is not only not my intention to write for ever,
or as Mr. Slick would say "for everlastinly;" but to make
my bow and retire very soon from the press altogether.
I might assign many reasons for this modest course, all
of them plausible, and some of them indeed quite dignified.
I like dignity: any man who has lived the greater part
of his life in a colony is so accustomed to it, that he
becomes quite enamoured of it, and wrapping himself up
in it as a cloak, stalks abroad the "observed of all
observers." I could undervalue this species of writing
if I thought proper, affect a contempt for idiomatic
humour, or hint at the employment being inconsistent with
the grave discharge of important official duties, which
are so distressingly onerous, as not to leave me a moment
for recreation; but these airs, though dignified, will
unfortunately not avail me. I shall put my dignity into