“He came to the rescue with a bull-terrier, a Newfoundland pup, a lantern, and a revolver. The moment he saw me at the window he shot at me, but fortunately just missed me. I threw myself under the table, and ventured to expostulate.” — PAGE 72.
“I managed to get the ring-leader of the swinish multitude into my parlor. He was a large, powerful-looking fellow with a great deal of comb, long legs, mottled complexion, and ears pretty well dogged. He stood for a moment at bay against the sofa, and then charged upon the dogs.” — PAGE 90.
“To him who in the love of Nature holds
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks
A various language.”
Doubtless you have read, in the work of a quaint old commentator whose name has been quietly obscuring itself in the rust of nearly three centuries, these words — “It hath beene the custome of many men to make their introductions to their bookes, like to some Grecian Cities gates; so ample, that (as the Prouerbe ranne), their Citie was ready to steale thorow the same.” You and I who appreciate wisdom — especially if it be a little mouldy, at once recognized the value of the hint conveyed by that piece of antiquated orthography. Therefore, to you, the brevity of this preface will, I trust, commend the book quite as much as though I had taken the matter in hand through the length and breadth of a score of pages. As there is nothing in it worth a smooth-faced prologue, nothing that would be the better for an apology, and nothing worth reviewing seriously, may I beg leave to present it without any introduction, except the very excellent designs of Mr. Darley?
CHESTNUT COTTAGE, March 1st, 1856.