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B OU DO I R.
“ Je n'enseigne pas ; je raconte.”
IN TWO VOLUMES.
TO THE READER.
The tirst page of the following work tells “ its being's aim and object.” It is not worth the gravity of a preface; and will probably escape the distinction of a criticism. It is of a species scarcely admitted into the dignity of British literature ; and belongs to that light class of writing in which the French alone excel. Its character is essentially egotistical, and its style inevitably careless. Time and labour might perhaps have cleared it of both these faults, and have rendered it a better work:
but it would not then have been the work it was