Why, in order to have an opportunity of holding up pseudo-critics by the tails, he wilfully spelt various foreign words wrong—­Welsh words, and even Italian words—­did they detect these misspellings? not one of them, even as he knew they would not, and he now taunts them with ignorance; and the power of taunting them with ignorance is the punishment which he designed for them—­a power which they might but for their ignorance have used against him.  The writer besides knowing something of Italian and Welsh, knows a little of Armenian language and literature; but who knowing anything of the Armenian language, unless he had an end in view, would say, that the word sea in Armenian is anything like the word tide in English?  The word for sea in Armenian is dzow, a word connected with the Tebetian word for water, and the Chinese shuy, and the Turkish su, signifying the same thing; but where is the resemblance between dzow and tide?  Again, the word for bread in ancient Armenian is hats; yet the Armenian on London Bridge is made to say zhats, which is not the nominative of the Armenian noun for bread, but the accusative:  now, critics, ravening against a man because he is a gentleman and a scholar, and has not only the power but also the courage to write original works, why did you not discover that weak point?  Why, because you were ignorant, so here ye are held up!  Moreover, who with a name commencing with Z, ever wrote fables in Armenian?  There are two writers of fables in Armenian—­Varthan and Koscht, and illustrious writers they are, one in the simple, and the other in the ornate style of Armenian composition, but neither of their names begins with a Z. Oh, what a precious opportunity ye lost, ye ravening crew, of convicting the poor, half-starved, friendless boy of the book, of ignorance or misrepresentation, by asking who with a name beginning with Z ever wrote fables in Armenian; but ye couldn’t help yourselves, ye are duncie.  We duncie!  Ay, duncie.  So here ye are held up by the tails, blood and foam streaming from your jaws.

The writer wishes to ask here, what do you think of all this, Messieurs les Critiques?  Were ye ever served so before?  But don’t you richly deserve it?  Haven’t you been for years past bullying and insulting everybody whom you deemed weak, and currying favour with everybody whom you thought strong?  “We approve of this.  We disapprove of that.  Oh, this will never do.  These are fine lines!” The lines perhaps some horrid sycophantic rubbish addressed to Wellington, or Lord So-and-so.  To have your ignorance thus exposed, to be shown up in this manner, and by whom?  A gypsy!  Ay, a gypsy was the very right person to do it.  But is it not galling, after all?