_A._ That can be said of few novels. In most of them even smoke assumes the ponderosity of lead.
_B._ There is a metal still heavier, which they have the power of creating--gold--to pay a dunning tailor's bill.
_A._ But after having been philosophical and geological, ought one not to be a little moral?
_B._ Pshaw! I thought you had more sense. The great art of novel writing is to make the vices glorious, by placing them in close alliance with redeeming qualities. Depend upon it, Ansard, there is a deeper, more heartfelt satisfaction than mere amusement in novel reading; a satisfaction no less real, because we will not own it to ourselves; the satisfaction of seeing all our favourite and selfish ideas dressed up in a garb so becoming, that we persuade ourselves that our false pride is proper dignity, our ferocity courage, our cowardice prudence, our irreligion liberality, and our baser appetites mere gallantry.
_A._ Very true, Barnstaple; but really I do not like this whirlwind.
_B._ Well, well, I give it up then; it was your own idea. We'll try again. Cannot you create some difficulty or dilemma, in which to throw her, so that the hero may come to her rescue with _éclat_?
_B._ So will your readers; stale--quite stale!
_A._ A wild bull has his horns close to her, and is about to toss her.
_B._ As your book would be--away with contempt. Vapid--quite vapid!
_A._ A shipwreck--the waves are about to close over her.
_B._ Your book would be closed at the same moment--worn out--quite worn out.
_A._ In the dead of the night, a fire breaks out--she is already in the midst of the flames----
_B._ Where your book would also be, by the disgusted reader--worse and worse.
_A._ Confound it--you will not allow me to expose her to earth, air, fire or water. I have a great mind to hang her in her garters, and make the hero come and cut her down.
_B._ That certainly would put an end to all your difficulties. But, Ansard, I think I can put your heroine in a situation really critical and eminently distressing, and the hero shall come to her relief, like the descent of a god to the rescue of a Greek or Trojan warrior.
_A._ Or of Bacchus to Ariadne in her distress.
_B._ Perhaps a better simile. The consequence will be, that eternal gratitude in the bosom of the maiden will prove the parent of eternal love, which eternity of passion will, of course, last until they are married.