and probably your contempt. I will not, however, with the futility of
apologies, intrude upon your time, but briefly acknowledge the motives
of my temerity; lest, by a premature exercise of that patience which
I hope will befriend me, I should lessen its benevolence, and be
accessary to my own condemnation.

Without name, without recommendation, and unknown alike to success
and disgrace, to whom can I so properly apply for patronage, as to
those who publicly profess themselves Inspectors of all literary
performances?

The extensive plan of your critical observations,-which, not confined
to works of utility or ingenuity, is equally open to those of frivolous
amusement,-and, yet worse than frivolous, dullness,-encourages me
to seek for your protection, since,-perhaps for my sins!-it intitles
me to your annotations. To resent, therefore, this offering, however
insignificant, would ill become the universality of your undertaking;
though not to despise it may, alas! be out of your power.

The language of adulation, and the incense of flattery, though the
natural inheritance, and constant resource, from time immemorial,
of the Dedicator, to me offer nothing but the wistful regret that I
dare not invoke their aid. Sinister views would be imputed to all I
could say; since, thus situated, to extol your judgment, would seem
the effect of art, and to celebrate your impartiality, be attributing
to suspecting it.

As magistrates of the press, and Censors for the public,-to which
you are bound by the sacred ties of integrity to exert the most
spirited impartiality, and to which your suffrages should carry the