INTRODUCTION.

W hen a Book has met with Success, it never wants a Father; there being those good natured Souls in the World, who, rather than let Mankind think such Productions sprang of themselves, will own the Vagabond Brat, and thereby become Fathers of other Mens Offsprings.

This was the Fate of Dumpling, whose real Father did not take more Care to conceal himself, than some did to be thought its Author; but if any one will recollect the Time of its Publication, they will find it within ——n S——t, from Ireland; the Occasion, as I am very well informed, was this, the D——n, one of the first Things he did, went to pay a Visit to Mr. T——, his old Bookseller; but, to his Surprize, found both the Brothers dead, and a Relation in the Shop, to whom he was an utter Stranger. Mr. M—— for such is this Person’s Name, gathering from the D—n’s Enquiries who he was, paid him his Devoirs in the most respectful Manner, solicited his Friendship, and invited him to a Dinner, which the D——n was pleased to accept. By the Way, you must know, he is a great Lover of Dumpling, as well as the Bookseller, who had ordered one for himself, little dreaming of such a Guest that Day. The Dinner, as ’twas not provided on purpose, was but a Family one, well enough however for a Bookseller; that is to say, a couple of Fowls, Bacon and Sprouts boiled, and a Forequarter ——n mollified him, insisting at the same Time, upon the Introduction of Dumpling, which accordingly was done. Dumpling gave Cause of Conversation, but not till it was eat; for the Reader must understand, that both the Gentlemen play a good Knife and Fork, and are too mannerly to talk with their Mouths full. The Dumpling eat, as I said before, the D——n drank to the Bookseller, the Bookseller to the Author, and with an obsequious Smile, seem’d to say ah! Dear Doctor, you have been a Friend to my Predecessor, can you do nothing for me? The D—n took the Hint, and after a profound Contemplation, cry’d, Why ay—Dumpling will do—put having at that Time, Credit with the Pork-Woman, but not with the Chandler: Times are since mended, Amen to the Continuance!

The D——n, having eat and drank plentifully, began his usual Pleasantries, and made the Bookseller measure his Ears with his Mouth; nay, burst his Sides with Laughter; however, he found Interval enough to remind the D——n of Dumpling, who asked him if he had a quick Hand at Writing: he excused himself, being naturally as Lazy as the other was Indolent, so they contrived to ease themselves by sending for a Hackney Writer C Temple Lane to be the D—’s Amanuensis, while he and his new Acquaintance crack’d t’other Bottle.

This Account may be depended upon, because I had it from the Man himself, who scorns to tell a Lye.

To be short, my Friend had the worst of it, being kept to hard Writing, without Drinking (Churls that they were) about three Hours; in which Time the Dissertation was finished, that is to say, from Page 1. to Page 25. the rest might probably be done at some other leisure Time, to fill up the Chinks, but of that he knows nothing; sufficient is it that the D——n was the Author. Proceed we now to the other Discoveries, by drawing the Veil from before the Book it self.

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