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 arrive in the last scene with a chariot with four horses and a patent axle-tree— just in time!—Alas! dear Julia! we may meet again. In the meantime the memory of your bright blue eyes shall not escape me; and when we do meet, why you shall talk more and laugh less. But you were young when last you listened to my nonsense; one of those innocent young ladies, who, on entering a drawing-room, take a rapid glance at their curls in a pier glass, and then, flying to the eternal round table, seek refuge in an admiring examination of the beauties of the Florence Gallery, or the binding of Batty's views.

This slight allusion to Julia is a digression. I was about to inform you, that I have no intention of finishing this book by any thing extraordinary. The truth is, and this is quite confidential, invention is not to be "the feature" of this work. What I have seen, I have written about; and what I shall see, I shall perhaps,