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Ye shall bave miracles, ay, sound ones too,
IN THREE VOLUMES.
RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET.
When I first determined upon writing a tale of fiction as a resource against “ leisure hours” – those mental vampires which suck out all the health of fitful occupation-I was particularly desirous of fixing upon an entirely new subject. It is said that our every motive is of a compound nature, but as far as I have been able to analyse my motive for this, I can find no ingredient but the one of simple and unmixed humility; that is, as much humility as may be consistent with writing at all in these days. I am aware that as a good housewife is said to
“ Gar auld claes look 'maist as weel's the new,"
so a very skilful writer can dress up a threadbare subject so tastefully, that if it had itself