To My Children.

James Graham,—This work which I have wrote I dedicate to you and your two sisters, to act as a lamp to your paths in the midst of the darkness by which you are surrounded, and I have no doubt but you will think it strange to see your father separated from your mother, and yet publishing such books; but I can assure you, my children, that it is no fault of mine, your mother has left me without a cause. But all literary men seems to be in the same box. John Milton's wife left him, also Wesley, Dickens, Josephus, Byron, etc., and a host more I could mention. Therefore your father is placed in a very honorable position by being allowed to rank in such respectable company. Under the circumstances, your father does the best he can, as he lives all alone like "Widow Machree," and analyzes everything like his late cousin, Sir Thomas Graham, master of the mint, London, and weighs them like his late uncle, Dr. Graham, of Killearn, and moralizes on them like the late Graham of Fintry, and follows the tactics of his late grandfather, Colonel M'Ara : first forms his plans of attack, and when he gets everything ready, charge the enemy, and, like the Highlandman at the Battle of Waterloo, when the Frenchman asked quarter, he answered "that he would only tak him in twa."