University of Virginia Library

PREFACE.

Some years ago I was wandering about the waste places, thoroughfares and by-ways of a beautiful country

and, as I was passing, I wrote a few simple sketches of the things that impressed me.

This land is commonly known as the Sunny South and is sometimes called “Dixie;” for this reason I call them Sketches from Life in Dixie.

Night before last I bundled them together, and sat down to admire the children of my fancy. No mother ever hung over the cradle of her first born with such delight as I did over them. For once these sketches had an audience; the universe was my theatre and my imagination filled it to the outer limits with eager listeners. I sat reading to them, far into the wee sma' hours of the night, till the absence of applause brought me to my senses, and I stopped to hear the clock on the stroke of two. About this time Benjamin Beaumont came into my room, slapped me playfully on the shoulder, and said, “Sol, why don't you bring this thing to an end? Write a preface and an advertisement for your book, publish it, and put it on the market. There are some good things in it.”

This disposed of my fancy; and brought me, for the first time in my life, down to real thought, for if there is anything that requires thought it is the preface of a

book. You may tip the pinions of your fancy with fiction, and let it flit aimlessly about the inner pages of your book if you will; but when it comes to writing the last page of it, and tacking it to the front, and calling it a preface, I should like to see you escape the thoughts of the critic. This thought murdered my fancy, and my audience vanished—only three of us remained, the Reviewer, the Critic, and I. For us a short preface will do; in short, since I come to think of it, the writing of the thing is a waste of energy; so I will put it off till another time and content myself with telling the simple truth, Sketches from Life in Dixie is but the work of a novice. He wrote them for amusement; and publishes them at the solicitation of his friend Benjamin Beaumont. If they are accepted by that vaccillating thing known as Public Opinion, he will be thankful: if they are spurned by it, he will not complain, for the cranky old thing is whimsical anyhow.