Читать книгу Reveries of a Bachelor; or, A Book of the Heart онлайн

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As for the style of the book I have nothing to say for it except to refer to my title. These are not sermons, nor essays, nor criticisms; they are only Reveries. And if the reader should stumble upon occasional magniloquence, or be worried with a little too much of sentiment, pray let him remember—that I am dreaming.

But while I say this, in the hope of nicking off the wiry edge of my reader’s judgment, I shall yet stand up boldly for the general tone and character of the book. If there is bad feeling in it, or insincerity, or shallow sentiment, or any foolish depth of affection betrayed—I am responsible; and the critics may expose it to their hearts’ content.

I have, moreover, a kindly feeling for these Reveries, from their very private character; they consist mainly of just such whimseys and reflections as a great many brother bachelors are apt to indulge in, but which they are too cautious, or too prudent to lay before the world. As I have in this matter shown a frankness and naïveté which are unusual, I shall ask a corresponding frankness in my reader; and I can assure him safely that this is eminently one of those books which were “never intended for publication.”