(IN A BOOKSTORE AT NAPLES.)
A Traveller (entering).—Have you any work on Pompeii?
The Salesman.—Yes; we have several. Here, for instance, is Bulwer's "Last Days of Pompeii."
Traveller.—Too thoroughly romantic.
Salesman.—Well, here are the folios of Mazois.
Traveller.—Too heavy.
Salesman.—Here's Dumas's "Corricolo."
Traveller.—Too light.
Salesman.—How would Nicolini's magnificent work suit you?
Traveller.—Oh! that's too dear.
Salesman.—Here's Commander Aloë's "Guide."
Traveller.—That's too dry.
Salesman.—Neither dry, nor romantic, nor light, nor heavy! What, then, would you have, sir?
Traveller.—A small, portable work; accurate, conscientious, and within everybody's reach.
Salesman.—Ah, sir, we have nothing of that kind; besides, it is impossible to get up such a work.
The Author (aside).—Who knows?