A CARD.
THE Author of the following Work feels herself under the necessity of apologizng to her numerous Friends, for the too frequent demands she makes on their indulgence.—Conscious of her deficiency in talents, inclination has no share in her feeble attempts to entertain the Public: She obtrudes neither from vanity or confidence, and shrinks from the severity of criticism, in the hope that her insignificance may protect her from the pointed darts of ridicule.—To wit and humour, the effervescence of a lively imagination and a happy turn of mind, she can make no pretensions; her former works have been thought to dwell too much on scenes of horror, and melancholy events; she cannot refute the charge: Perhaps her writings take their colouring from her mind;—when the heart is not at ease, it is incapable of communicating cheerful ideas to the descriptive pen; therefore the wisely declines an attempt she is unequal to, of diverting her Readers.
