

                                 Henry Fielding

                     A Journey from this World to the Next

                                 Introduction.

Whether the ensuing pages were really the dream or vision of some very pious and
holy person; or whether they were really written in the other world, and sent
back to this, which is the opinion of many (though I think too much inclining to
superstition); or lastly, whether, as infinitely the greatest part imagine, they
were really the production of some choice inhabitant of New Bethlehem, is not
necessary nor easy to determine. It will be abundantly sufficient if I give the
reader an account by what means they came into my possession.
    Mr. Robert Powney, stationer, who dwells opposite to Catherine-street in the
Strand, a very honest man and of great gravity of countenance; who, among other
excellent stationary commodities, is particularly eminent for his pens, which I
am abundantly bound to acknowledge, as I owe to their peculiar goodness that my
manuscripts have by any means been legible: this gentleman, I say, furnished me
some time since with a bundle of those pens, wrapped up with great care and
caution, in a very large sheet of paper full of characters, written as it seemed
in a very bad hand. Now, I have a surprising curiosity to read everything which
is almost illegible; partly perhaps from the sweet remembrance of the dear
Scrawls, Skrawls, or Skrales (for the word is variously spelt), which I have in
my youth received from that lovely part of the creation for which I have the
tenderest regard; and partly from that temper of mind which makes men set an
immense value on old manuscripts so effaced, bustoes so maimed, and pictures so
black that no one can tell what to make of them. I therefore perused this sheet
with wonderful application, and in about a day's time discovered that I could
not understand it. I immediately repaired to Mr. Powney, and inquired very
eagerly whether he had not more of the same manuscript? He produced about one
hundred pages, acquainting me that he had saved no more; but that the book was
originally a huge folio, had been left in his garret by a gentleman who lodged
there, and who had left him no other satisfaction for nine months' lodging. He
proceeded to inform me that the manuscript had been hawked about (as he phrased
it) among all the booksellers, who refused to meddle; some alledged that they
could not read, others that they could not understand it. Some would have it to
be an atheistical book, and some that it was a libel on the government; for
