Excerpt from Memoirs, Correspondence, and Poetical Remains, of Jane TaylorSometimes into my hand I take a pen, Without the hope of aught but mere chagrin I scribble, then leave off in sad despair, And make a blot in spite of all my care.I laugh and talk, and preach a sermon well; Go about begging, and your fortune tell.About the PublisherForgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.comThis book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition.

We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.