These attacks did not at all tend to restore the equanimity of the doctor's temper, which, it must be acknowledged, had some excuse for being disturbed by the events of the morning; but he proved himself a wise man, for he made no further reply. The boat pulled in, and the party returned on board; and when Macallan had divested himself of his uncomfortable attire, and joined his messmates at the dinner-table, he had recovered his usual serenity of disposition, and joined himself in the laugh which had been created at his expense. CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT. A man must serve his time to every trade, Save censure.--Critics all are ready made. Take hackneyed jokes from Miller, got by rote, With just enough of learning to misquote; A mind well skill'd to find or forge a fault, A turn for punning--call it Attic salt: Fear not to lie, 'twill seem a lucky hit, Shrink not from blasphemy, 'twill pass for wit, Care not for feeling,--pass your proper jest, And stand a critic! hated, yet caress'd. BYRON. The survey was continued. One morning, after a fatiguing walk from point to point, occasionally crossing from one islet to the others in the boats, the party collected under a projecting rock, which screened them from the rays of the vertical sun, and the repast, which had been brought from the ship in the morning, was spread before them. The party consisted of Captain M---; Pearce, the master; the surgeon, who had accompanied them to explore the natural productions of the reef; and the confidential clerk of Captain M---, a man of the name of Collier, who had been many years in his service, and who was now employed in noting down the angles taken with the theodolite. Tired with the labours of the morning, Captain M--- did not rise immediately after their meal had been despatched, but entered into conversation with the surgeon, who was looking over the memoranda which he had made relative to the natural history of the reef. "Do you intend to write a book, Mr Macallan, that you have collected so many remarks?" "Indeed I do not, sir. I have no ambition to be an author." The clerk, who was very taciturn in general, and seldom spoke unless on points connected with his duty, joined the conversation by addressing the surgeon. "It's a service of danger, sir, and you must be prepared to meet the attacks both of authors and reviewers." "Of reviewers I can imagine," replied Macallan; "but why of authors?" "That depends very much whether you tread over beaten ground, or strike into a new path. In the latter case you will be pretty safe from both, as the authors will be _indifferent_ and the reviewers, in all probability, _incapable_." "And why, if I enter upon a beaten track, which, I presume, infers a style of writing in which others have preceded me?"