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One of the fir&longs;t observations,
the author of the following
&longs;heets made, upon his return to his
native country, after an ab&longs;ence of
&longs;even years, was the extreme avidity,
with which books of mere amusement
were purcha&longs;ed and peru&longs;ed by
all ranks of his countrymen. When
he left New England, books of Biography,
Travels, Novels, and

[figure description] Page vi.[end figure description]

modern Romances, were confined to our
&longs;ea ports; or, if known in the country,
were read only in the families
of Clergymen, Phy&longs;icians, and Lawyers:
while certain funeral discourses,
the la&longs;t words and dying &longs;peeches
of Bryan Shaheen, and Levi
Ames, and &longs;ome dreary somebody's
Day of Doom, formed the mo&longs;t
diverting part of the farmer's library.
On his return from captivity, he
found a &longs;urpri&longs;ing alteration in the
public ta&longs;te. In our inland towns
of con&longs;equence, &longs;ocial libraries had
been in&longs;tituted, compo&longs;ed of books,
de&longs;igned to amu&longs;e rather than to

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instruct; and country book&longs;ellers, foltering
the new born ta&longs;te of the people,
had filled the whole land with
modern Travels, and Novels almo&longs;t
as incredible. The diffu&longs;ion of a
ta&longs;te, for any &longs;pecies of writing,
through all ranks, in &longs;o &longs;hort a
time, would appear impracticable
to a European. The pea&longs;ant of
Europe mu&longs;t fir&longs;t be taught to
read, before he can acquire a ta&longs;te in
letters. In New England, the work
is half completed. In no other
country are there &longs;o many people,
in proportion to its numbers, who
can read and write; and therefore,

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no &longs;ooner was a ta&longs;te for amu&longs;ing
literature diffu&longs;ed than all orders of
country life, with one accord, sorsook
the &longs;ober &longs;ermons and Practical
Pieties of their fathers, for the
gay &longs;tories and &longs;plendid impieties of
the Traveller and the Noveli&longs;t. The
worthy farmer no longer &longs;atigued
him&longs;elf with Bunyan's Pilgrim up
the “hill of difficulty” or through
the “&longs;lough of de&longs;pond;” but quaffed
wine with Brydone in the hermitage
of Ve&longs;uvius, or &longs;ported with
Bruce on the fairy land of Abysinia:
while Dolly, the diary maid, and
Jonathan, the hired man, threw

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aside the ballad of the cruel stepmother,
over which they had &longs;o often
wept in concert, and now amused
them&longs;elves into &longs;o agreeable a
terrour, with the haunted hou&longs;es and
hobgobblins of Mrs. Ratcliffe, that
they were both afraid to &longs;leep alone.

While this love of literature,
however frivolous, is plea&longs;ing to the
man of letters, there are two things
to be deplored. The fir&longs;t is that,
while &longs;o many books are vended,
they are not of our own manufacture.
If our wives and daughters

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will wear gauze and ribbands, it is
a pity, they are not wrought in
our own looms. The &longs;econd misfortune
is that Novels, being the
picture of the times, the New England
reader is in&longs;en&longs;ibly taught to
admire the levity, and often the vices
of the parent country. While the
fancy is enchanted, the heart is corrupted.
The farmer's daughter,
while &longs;he pities the misfortune of
&longs;ome modern heroine, is expo&longs;ed to
the attacks of vice, from which her
ignorance would have formed her
fare&longs;t &longs;hield. If the Engli&longs;h Novel
does not inculcate vice, it at

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lea&longs;t impre&longs;&longs;es on the young mind
an erroneous idea of the world, in
which &longs;he is to live. It paints the
manners, cu&longs;toms, and habits of a
&longs;trange country; excites a fondne&longs;s
for fal&longs;e &longs;plendour; and renders the
home&longs;pun habits of her own country
di&longs;gu&longs;ting.

There are two things wanted,
&longs;aid a friend to the author: that we
write our own books of amu&longs;ement,
and that they exhibit our own manners.
Why then do you not write
the hi&longs;tory of your own life? The
fir&longs;t part of it, if not highly

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interesting, would at lea&longs;t di&longs;play a portrait
of New England manners, hitherto
unattempted. Your captivity among
the Algerines, with &longs;ome notices
of the manners of that ferocious
race, &longs;o dreaded by commercial
powers, and &longs;o little known in our
country, would be intere&longs;ting; and
I &longs;ee no advantage the Novel writer
can have over you, unle&longs;s your readers
&longs;hould be of the &longs;entiment of the
young lady, mentioned by Addi&longs;on
in his &longs;pectator, who, he informs us,
borrowed Plutarch's lives; and, after
reading the fir&longs;t volume, with
infinite delight, &longs;uppo&longs;ing it to be a

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Novel, threw a&longs;ide the others with
di&longs;gu&longs;t, becau&longs;e a man of letters
had inadvertently told her, the
work was founded on FACT.

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