I anticipate some approbation from such readers as have been pleased with
the "Rural Tales;" yet, though I will not falsify my own feelings by
assuming a diffidence which I do not conceive to be either manly or
becoming, the conviction that some reputation is hazarded in "a third
attempt," is impressed deeply on my mind.

With such sentiments, and with a lively sense of the high honour, and a
hope of the bright recompence, of applause from the good, when heightened
by the self-approving voice of my own conscience, I commit the book to its
fate.

ROBERT BLOOMFIELD.



DEDICATION.

TO MY ONLY SON.

MY DEAR BOY,

In thus addressing myself to you, and in expressing my regard for your
person, my anxiety for your health, and my devotion to your welfare, I
enjoy an advantage over those dedicators who indulge in adulation;--I
shall at least be believed.

Should you arrive at that period when reason shall be mature, and
affection or curiosity induce you to look back on your father's
poetical progress through life, you may conclude that he had many to boast
as friends, whose names, in a dedication, would have honoured both him and