THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY. The cheerful breeze sets fair; we fill our sail, Then we lay-to, and let the blast go by. HURDIS. WORTHY AND GENTLE READER, I dedicate this little book to thee with many. fears and misgivings of heart. Being a stranger to thee, and having never administered to thy. wants nor to thy pleasures, I can ask nothing at thy hands, saving the common courtesies of life. Perchance, too, what I have written will be little to thy taste;-for it is little in accordance with the stirring spirit of the present age. If so, I crave thy forbearance for having thought, that even the VOL. I.-A busiest mind might not be a stranger to those moments of repose, when the clock of time clicks drowsily behind the door, and trifles become the amusement of the wise and great. Besides, what perils await the adventurous author, who launches forth into the uncertain current of public favour in so frail a bark as this! The very rocking of the tide may overset him; or peradventure some freebooting critic, prowling about the great ocean of letters, may descry his strange colours,-hail him through a gray goose-quill, and perhaps sink him without more ado. Indeed, the success of an unknown author is as uncertain as the wind. "When a book is first to appear in the world," says a celebrated French writer, "one knows not whom to consult to learn its destiny. The stars preside not over its nativity. Their influences have no operation on it; and the most confident astrologers dare not foretell the diverse risks of fortune it must run." It is from such considerations, worthy reader, that I would fain bespeak thy friendly offices at the outset. But in asking these, I would not forestall thy good opinion too far, lest in the sequel I should disappoint thy kind wishes. I ask only a welcome and God-speed; hoping, that when thou hast read these pages, thou wilt say to me, in the words of Nick Bottom, the weaver, "I shall desire you of more acquaintance, good Master Cobweb." Very sincerely thine, THE AUTHOR. |