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THE

HISTORY

OF

NETTERVILLE,

A Chance Pedestrian.

A Jovel.

* The shifts and turns, the expedients, and inventions, ' *
* Multiform; to which the mind resorts in chase of term,
* Tho’apt, yet coy, and difficult to wina
* To arrest the fleeting images that fill
“ The mirror of the mind; and hold them fast;
" And force them sit, till he has pencil'd off
" A faithful likeness of the forms he views.”

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Printed by J. Cundee, Ivy-lane;
POR CROSBY AND CO. STATIONER'S-COURT..

249.6.530.

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To every one whom it may concern, or into whose hands, this book may fall, the Authoress addresses herself, with a humble hope that this, her second attempt in the region of fiction, may not be altogether unworthy of a casual attention. She flatters herself that it contains nothing immoral or irreligious, and no sentiment which she ought to blush for having avowed to the world. Many of her quotations are, she doubts not, incorrect, and defective, as they were intirely copied from memory. Some of them she has taken the liberty of altering, the better to accommodate them to her work, and this she ventures to hope may be excused.

The

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The poetry, if she dares denominate the humblest efforts of the

untutored muse” by that lofty epithet, was written at different periods—as was also her theatrical fragment. Should the Authoress not intirely fail in amusing a candid, and generous few, who condescend sometimes to stray awhile, amid the bowers of Fancy--should her trifling work succeed in drawing the mind of the afflicted a moment from the bitterness of retrospection; her labour will not have been ineffectual and she will, at some future period, again take up her pen

and endeavour to amuse herself and her readers-in which hope she subscribes herself their

Obliged Servant,

THE AUTHORESS:

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ini whom now can I call my friends!

Ox from whom can I hear the sound of joy? * To thee thé Friend has fallen, in thiy grave my joy is

il " Death, thou cruel spoiler! how oft hast thou caused

å ud tear to How - How many are the miserable thou hast made! “ Apd who can escape thy dart of woc'?

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-35:ans "train riiviv').!!! 11 IT 35 quite impossible, :Sit,” said a tough-looking isolier, as he marked “ G. R." on a stage-coachs at the entrance of the city of Baths: if you were to give me a thousand pounds I could not suffer you to continue in the coachio The troops must be conveyed to the rendezvquson, Barham Downs and, if you want sto get on, you have

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