"I am afraid," said I, "any new adventures which I can invent will not fadge well with the old tale; one will but spoil the other." I had better have nothing to do with Colonel B---, thought I, but boldly and independently sit down and write the life of Joseph Sell.
This Joseph Sell, dear reader, was a fictitious personage who had just come into my head.

I had never even heard of the name, but just at that moment it happened to come into my head; I would write an entirely fictitious narrative, called the Life and Adventures of Joseph Sell, the great traveller.
I had better begin at once, thought I; and removing the bread and the jug, which latter was now empty, I seized pen and paper, and forthwith essayed to write the life of Joseph Sell, but soon discovered that it was much easier to resolve upon a thing than to achieve it, or even to commence it; for the life of me I did not know how to begin, and, after trying in vain to write a line, I thought it would be as well to go to bed, and defer my projected undertaking till the morrow.
So I went to bed, but not to sleep.

During the greater part of the night I lay awake, musing upon the work which I had determined to execute.

For a long time my brain was dry and unproductive; I could form no plan which appeared feasible.

At length I felt within my brain a kindly glow; it was the commencement of inspiration; in a few minutes I had formed my plan; I then began to imagine the scenes and the incidents.