 | Swallow Barn, or A sojourn in the Old Dominion |  |
PREFACE.
I have had great difficulty to prevent myself from
writing a novel. The reader will perceive that the
author of these sketches left his home to pass a few
weeks in the Old Dominion, having a purpose to portray
the impressions which the scenery and the people
of that region made upon him, in detached pictures
brought together with no other connexion than that
of time and place. He soon found himself, however,
engaged in the adventures of domestic history, which
wrought so pleasantly upon him, and presented such
a variety of persons and characters to his notice, that
he could not forbear to describe what he saw. His
book therefore, in spite of himself, has ended in a vein
altogether different from that in which it set out.
There is a rivulet of story wandering through a broad
meadow of episode. Or, I might truly say, it is a
the plot. However repugnant this plan of writing
may be to the canons of criticism, yet it may, perhaps,
amuse the reader even more than one less exceptionable.
The country and the people are at least truly described;
although it will be seen that my book has
but little philosophy to recommend it, and much less
of depth of observation. In truth, I have only perfunctorily
skimmed over the surface of a limited
society, which was both rich in the qualities that
afford delight, and abundant in the materials to compensate
the study of its peculiarities. If my book be
too much in the mirthful mood, it is because the ordinary
actions of men, in their household intercourse,
have naturally a humorous or comic character. The
passions that are exhibited in such scenes are moderate
and amiable; and a true narrative of what is
amiable in personal history is apt to be tinctured
with the hue of a lurking and subdued humour. The
under-currents of country-life are grotesque, peculiar
and amusing, and it only requires an attentive observer
to make an agreeable book by describing them. I do
not think any one will say that my pictures are exaggerated
or false in their proportions; because I have
not striven to produce effect: they will, doubtless, be
found insufficient in many respects, and I may be open
I confess the incompetency of my hand to do what,
perhaps, my reader has a right to require from one
who professes a design to amuse him. Still I may
have furnished some entertainment, and that is what
I chiefly aimed at, although negligently and unskilfully.
As to the events I have recounted, upon what assurance
I have given them to the world, how I came to
do so, and with what license I have used names to
bring them into the public eye, those are matters betwixt
me and my friends, concerning which my reader
would forget himself if he should be over-curious. His
search therein will give him but little content; and if
I am driven into straits in that regard, I shelter myself
behind the motto on my title-page, the only one
I have used in this book. Why should I not have
my privilege as well as another?
If this my first venture should do well, my reader
shall hear of me anon, and much more, I hope, to his
liking: if disaster await it, I am not so bound to its
fortunes but that I can still sleep quietly as the best
who doze over my pages.
The author of the Seven Champions has forestalled
all I have left to say; and I therefore take the freedom
to conclude in his words:
“Gentle readers,—in kindness accept of my labours,
mates, that carp at every thing. What the simple say,
I care not; what the spightful speak, I pass not: only
the censure of the conceited I stand unto; that is the
mark I aym at, whose good likings if I obtain, I have
won my race.”
| Swallow Barn, or A sojourn in the Old Dominion | |