is any opening for me to speak; and others must be blamed, not I,
if

the lyre so long divine
Degenerates into hands like mine.

At any rate, however all this may be, what I here inscribe to you,
my friend and teacher, I am confident is not unworthy of you. It is
not what I have done; it is what I have tried to do. As such I beg
you to accept it, and to believe me still, though now so seldom
near you,

Your admiring and affectionate friend,

W.H. MALLOCK.

P.S.--Much of the substance of the following book you have seen
already, in two Essays of mine that were published in the
'Contemporary Review,' and in five Essays that were published in
the 'Nineteenth Century.' It had at one time been my intention, by
the kindness of the respective Editors, to have reprinted these
Essays in their original form. But there was so much to add, to
omit, to rearrange, and to join together, that I have found it
necessary to rewrite nearly the whole; and thus you will find the
present volume virtually new.

Torquay, _May, 1879_.