ΤΟ

WILLIAM CRAWFORD, JUN. ESQ.

IN REMEMBRANCE OF MANY KINDNESSES, AND AS A TESTIMONIAL (THOUGH A HUMBLE ONE) OF HIGH

ESTIMATION AND RESPECT, THIS LITTLE

VOLUME IS INSCRIBED,

BY

HIS OBLIGED AND OBEDIENT SERVANT,

THE AUTHOR.

INTRODUCTION.

It almost strikes me that an introduction to a little volume so unpretending as this, must have a stiff and awkward appearance: yet, to thrust it into society without one, would look rude and abrupt. What shall I say for it? The old cant of "partial friends" is too maudlin and threadbare; besides, as the matter is not worth telling a lie about, I may as well confess, with Peter Pindar's razor-dealer, that it was "made to sell."

Whatever of literary vanity may have been mixed up with the first thought of publication, has completely oozed out at the point of the pen which corrected the proofs. These tedious readings and re-readings furnish too abundant testimony of the many defects, not to make more experienced authors tremble for the manner in which their literary progeny may be received by the world. How, then, must he feel, who, for the first time, makes the adventure.

The delay which this little volume experienced in its publication, may give expectancy a greater scope; but it will be perceived, by some topics illustratively introduced, that many of the articles were written "from pen to press," though others have been lying for years by the author.

Whatever may be the opinion passed upon the literary merits or intrinsic interest of the volume, no pains have been spared, no expense has been avoided, either by the printer

or publisher, to render "the bringing out" as respectable as possible; and to prove that a Cork press may produce a work, which those of London, Edinburg or Dublin, need not blush to acknowledge. If the author could assure himself that he should satisfy his subscribers in every other respect, as well as, he feels confident, he has done in this, his wishes would be gratified.

For the illustrations which accompany the volume, I am indebted to my ingenious and excellent friend Mr. M'Daniel; who, unsolicited, kindly proffered his service. Of Mr. M'Daniel's talents as an artist it does not become me to speak. His productions are his best panegyric: but, though they tell of his genius and progress in his profession, it requires an acquaintance with the man himself to discover the sterling qualities of head and heart by which he is peculiarly characterised-the retiring and almost timid modesty which ever accompanies true merit.

Two of the illustrations-" When I was a Boy" and the "Justice Hall" from "Passages in the life of an actor are by a son of Mr. M'Daniels, not more than thirteen years of age, and are far more graphic than the text they are intended to illustrate. The first is very happily conceived, and executed in the true spirit of comic antithesis. Who could imagine that the two old fixtures, there gossiping of boyish times, were ever other than they are? Their very costume, even to the cane and shoe-buckles, seem part and parcel of their parturition. Wrinkles seem to be their primogenitureship, and grey hairs their birth-right. The first born of Time, he has stamped them, ab initio, with