reception by the public.

With every sentiment of esteem and regard,
Believe me very faithfully yours,
THE AUTHOR
Bruxelles, December, 1839.

PREFATORY EPISTLE.

Dear Public,

When first I set about recording the scenes which occupy these pages, I
had no intention of continuing them, except in such stray and scattered
fragments as the columns of a Magazine (FOOTNOTE: The Dublin University
Magazine.) permit of; and when at length I discovered that some interest
had attached not only to the adventures, but to their narrator, I would
gladly have retired with my "little laurels" from a stage, on which,
having only engaged to appear between the acts, I was destined to come
forward as a principal character.

Among the "miseries of human life," a most touching one is spoken of--the
being obliged to listen to the repetition of a badly sung song, because
some well-wishing, but not over discreet friend of the singer has called
loudly for an encore.

I begin very much to fear that something of the kind has taken place
here, and that I should have acted a wiser part, had I been contented
with even the still small voice of a few partial friends, and retired
from the boards in the pleasing delusion of success; but unfortunately,
the same easy temperament that has so often involved me before, has been
faithful to me here; and when you pretended to be pleased, unluckily, I
believed you.

So much of apology for the matter--a little now for the manner of my
offending, and I have done. I wrote as I felt--sometimes in good
spirits, sometimes in bad--always carelessly--for, God help me, I can do
no better.

When the celibacy of the Fellows of Trinity College, Dublin, became an
active law in that University, the Board proceeded to enforce it, by
summoning to their presence all the individuals who it was well known had
transgressed the regulation, and among them figured Dr. S., many of whose
sons were at the same time students in the college. "Are you married,
Dr. S-----r?" said the bachelor vice-provost, in all the dignity and
pride of conscious innocence. "Married!" said the father of ten
children, with a start of involuntary horror;--"married?" "Yes sir,
married." "Why sir, I am no more married than the Provost." This was
quite enough--no further questions were asked, and the head of the
University preferred a merciful course towards the offende