of a hobgoblin.
As soon, therefore, as I shall have terrified my readers into a belief of the proper prognostic, the

ghost shall stalk forth. To suffer this sooner would be inartificial, and consequently an impeachment of my capacity of tantalizing the reader, which would be an indelible disgrace to the fraternity of ← novel → writers, some of whom have excited no other sensation.
I hope, however, I shall be forgiven if I differ in the main from this mode of constructing my work, and not deemed an innovator if I endeavour to make satisfaction keep pace with expectation.


I MEAN to lead the reader on, chapter after chapter, through this history, in the same manner as we are led, day after day, through life. They who experience the largest portions of human happiness, are sure to have some unpleasant moments in every four-and-twenty hours; whereas the same degree of misery will not so far overcome the fortitude of others: but they find now and then a transient gleam of pleasure, which, like an accidental creek through the wall of a dungeon, magnifies the light of comfort, by peeping in upon obscurity.
At the close of every dull day, we naturally look forward in hopes of finding the next more agreeable. Thus people comfort themselves with
"tomorrow is a new day;"—"we shall see how matters will go to-morrow;"
and thus cherish a laudable expectation, though it end perhaps only in disappoinment.


I am led to these remarks by the recollection of my having promised to tell the reader what Sir Sidney wanted to make him completely happy. To do this suddenly, and without preparation, would seem to shew that I know not the way to elevate and surprise; a mystery which more than Mr. Bayes have thought the most essential requisite of an author.
As no reader, therefore, can reasonably desire me to violate a standing rule, I shall now proceed to unfold a nice chain of circumstances, which will lead directly to the main event.
In the description that has been given of Castlewick, I more than doubt I have been shrewdly suspected of that kind of embellishment in which heroes are said to deal when speaking of their exploits, and lovers when extolling the charms of their mistresses. In fact, to suppose a body of nearly five hundred people, of different sexes, ages, and complexions, could be perfectly secure from evil in themselves, or guarded against the temptations of others, would be to suppose an order of beings that certainly shall not intrude themselves here, my intention being to treat