And they made a law that no one should stand too close to the thing he wished to see clearly.

And they added their judgment that only the visitors to a country could see it as it is.
So the traveller dipped his quill in ink once more and started writing his book.

It is not yet known how successful he was.
Travellers make terrible errors, and yet at times they bring back fragments of truth that the natives of the land have left unheeded scattered on the soil of the countryside.

Sometimes their fragments prove to be useless and without value, for there are travellers and travellers, and some will be as stupid and as blind as the rest are clever.

If this book turns out to be written by one of the stupid travellers--try to be generous, you Villagers--but then the Village is always generous! The studio life of Greenwich is really and truly as primitive, as picturesque, as poverty-stricken and as gaily adventurous as the story-tellers say.