ing else prevails In this
dull age.

Author. Then my success is certain; I think you'll say so when I draw
the curtain, And, presto! place before your wond'ring eyes A race
of beings that must 'cite surprise; The strangest compound truth and
contradiction Owe to dame Nature, or the pen of Action; Where wit and
folly, pride and modest worth, Go hand in hand, or jostle at a birth;
Where prince, peer, peasant, politician meet, And beard each other in
the public street;
~6~~
Where ancient forms, though still admired, Are phantoms that have long
expired; Where science droops 'fore sovereign folly, And arts are sick
with melancholy; Where knaves gain wealth, and honest fellows, By hunger
pinch'd, blow knav'ry's bellows; Where wonder rises upon wonder--

Friend. Hold! Or you may leave no wonders to be told. Your book, to
sell, must have a subtle plot--Mark the Great Unknown, wily *****
****: Print in America, publish at Milan; There's nothing like this
Scotch-Athenian plan, To hoax the cockney lack-brains.

Author. It shall be: Books, like Madeira, much improve at sea; 'Tis said
it clears them from the mist and smell Of modern Athens, so says sage
Cadell, Whose dismal tales of shipwreck, stress of weather, Sets all
divine _Nonsensia_ mad together; And, when they get the dear-bought
novel home, "They love it for the dangers it has overcome."

Friend. I like your plan: "art sure there's no offence?"

Author. None that's intended to wound common-sense. For your uncommon
knaves who rule the town, Your M.P.'s, M.D.'s, R.A.'s and silk gown,
Empirics in all arts, every degree, Just Satire whispers are fair game
for me.

Friend. The critic host beware!

Author. Wherefore, I pray? "The cat will mew, the dog will have his
day." Let them bark on! who heeds their currish note Knows not the
world--they howl, for food, by rote.

[Illustration: page007]

~7~~

REFLECTIONS, ADDRESSED TO THOSE WHO CAN THINK.

Reflections of an Author--Weighty Reasons for writing--
Magister artis ingeniique largitor Venter--Choice of Subject
considered--Advice of Index, the Book-seller--Of the Nature
of Prefaces--How to commence a new Work.

Author (solus). I must write--my last sovereign has long since been
transferred to the safe keeping of mine hostess, to whom I have
the honor to be obliged. I just caught a glance of her inflexible
countenance this morning in passing the parlour door; and methought
I could perceive