On The Wings Of Fancy, Gentle Readers,

The Words Of Kindness Are More Healing To A Drooping Heart Than Balm Or Honey.

I Often Used To Think Myself In The Case Of The Fox-hunter, Who, When He Had Toiled And Sweated All Day In The Chase As If Some Unheard-of Blessing Was To Crown His Success, Finds At Last All He Has Got By His Labor Is A Stinking Nauseous Animal. But My Condition Was Yet Worse Than His; For He Leaves The Loathsome Wretch To Be Torn By His Hounds, Whilst I Was Obliged To Fondle Mine, And Meanly Pretend Him To Be The Object Of My Love.

But In All Things Whether We Shall Make Only A Due Use Of The Liberties We Have Asked, Is Left Entirely To The Judicious Reader To Decide.

I Fancied I Had Some Constancy Of Mind Because I Could Bear My Own Sufferings, But Found Through The Sufferings Of Others I Could Be Weakened Like A Child.

I Am None Of Those Nonsensical Fools That Can Whine And Make Romantic Love--i Leave That To Younger Brothers. Let My Estate Speakfor Me.