says), is as the
difference between a sow's ear (excuse the coarseness of the proverb)
and a silk purse. And I shall think the better of the German author and
myself, as long as I live; of him for the very _ideal_ artist of sow's
ears, and of myself as a most respectable manufacturer of silk purses.

Thus much to account for my omissions and compressions. I am afraid,
however, there will be some readers who will be so far from asking any
apology on those heads, that they will facetiously regard them as my
only merits: and that would be as cruel as Lessing's suggestion to an
author for his table of errata--"_Apropos_, of errata, suppose you were
to put your whole book into the list of errata." More candid readers, I
am inclined to hope, will blame me for not having made larger
_alterations_ in Walladmor: and _that_ would be a flattering criticism,
as it must suppose that I could have improved it: indeed, compliment
never wears so delightful an aspect, as when it takes the shape of
blame. The truth is--I _have_ altered; and altered until I had not the
face to alter any more. The ghost of Sir John Cutler's stockings began
to appear to me; and elder ghosts than _that_--the ghost of Sir Francis
Drake's ship, the ghost of Jason's ship, and other celebrated cases of
the same perplexing question: metaphysical doubts fell upon me: and I
began to fear that if, in addition to a new end, I were to put a new
beginning and a new middle,--I should be accused of building a second
English hoax upon the primitive German hoax. In general I have
proceeded as one would in transplanting a foreign opera to our stage:
where the author tells the story ill--take it out of his hands, and
tell it better: retouch his recitative; bring out and develope his
situations: in this place throw in a tender air, in that a passionate
chorus. Pretty much in this spirit I have endeavoured to proceed. But
it is a most delicate operation to take work out of another man's loom,
and put work in: joinings and sutures will sometimes appear; colors
will not always match. And, after all, it is impossible to alter every
thing that one may think amiss. In general, I would request the reader
to consider himself indebted to me for any thing he may find
particularly good; and above all things to load my wretched 'Principal'
with the blame of every thing that is wrong. If he comes to any passage
which he is disposed to think superlatively bad, let him be assured
that it is