light is, doubtless, the most agreeable course for a writer of
fiction to pursue; but is it the most honest, or the safest? Is it
better to reveal the snares and pitfalls of life to the young and
thoughtless traveller, or to cover them with branches and flowers?
Oh, reader! if there were less of this delicate concealment of
facts - this whispering, 'Peace, peace,' when there is no peace,
there would be less of sin and misery to the young of both sexes
who are left to wring their bitter knowledge from experience.

I would not be understood to suppose that the proceedings of the
unhappy scapegrace, with his few profligate companions I have here
introduced, are a specimen of the common practices of society - the
case is an extreme one, as I trusted none would fail to perceive;
but I know that such characters do exist, and if I have warned one
rash youth from following in their steps, or prevented one
thoughtless girl from falling into the very natural error of my
heroine, the book has not been written in vain. But, at the same
time, if any honest reader shall have derived more pain than
pleasure from its perusal, and have closed the last volume with a
disagreeable impression on his mind, I humbly crave his pardon, for
such was far from my intention; and I will endeavour to do better
another time, for I love to give innocent pleasure. Yet, be it
understood, I shall not limit my ambition to this - or even to
producing 'a perfect work of art': time and talents so spent, I
should consider wasted and misapplied. Such humble talents as God
has given me I will endeavour to put to their greatest use; if I am
able to amuse, I will try to benefit too; and when I feel it my
duty to speak an unpalatable truth, with the help of God, I WILL
speak it, though it be to the prejudice of my name and to the
detriment of my reader's immediate pleasure as well as my own.