Note 1: — EMMA COURTNEY

I am not sanguine respecting the success of this little publication. It is truly observed, by the writer of a late popular novel1—'That an author, whether good or bad, or between both, is an animal whom every body is privileged to attack; for, though all are not able to write books, all conceive themselves able to judge them. A bad composition carries with it its own punishment—contempt and ridicule:—a good one excites envy, and (frequently) entails upon its author a thousand mortifications.'