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Excerpt from A Flat Iron for a Farthing: Or, Some Passages in the Life of an Only Son
AN apology is a sorry Preface to any book, how ever insignificant, and yet I am anxious to apologise for the title Of this little tale. The story grew after the title had been (hastily) given, and so many other incidents gathered round the incident Of the purchase Of the at iron as to make it no longer important enough to appear upon the title page. It would, however, be dishonest to change the name Of a tale which is reprinted from a Magazine; and I can only apologise for an appearance Of affectation in it which was not intended.
As the Dedication may seem to suggest that the character Of Mrs. Bundle is a portrait, I may be allowed to say that, except in faithfulness, and tenderness, and high principle, she bears no likeness to my father's dear Old nurse.
It may interest some Of my child readers to know that the steep street and the farthing wares are real remembrances out Of my own childhood. Though whether in these days Of advanced prices, the at irons, the gridirons with the three fish upon them.
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