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a controversy whose continuance may be so fatal to the interests of
us all, desiring much rather that things be amicably composed; and
we shall so far advance on our side as to be ready to receive the
two prodigals with open arms whenever they shall think fit to return
from their husks and their harlots, which I think, from the present
course of their studies {65b}, they most properly may be said to be
engaged in, and, like an indulgent parent, continue to them our
affection and our blessing.

But the greatest maim given to that general reception which the
writings of our society have formerly received, next to the
transitory state of all sublunary things, has been a superficial
vein among many readers of the present age, who will by no means be
persuaded to inspect beyond the surface and the rind of things;
whereas wisdom is a fox, who, after long hunting, will at last cost
you the pains to dig out. It is a cheese which, by how much the
richer, has the thicker, the homelier, and the coarser coat, and
whereof to a judicious palate the maggots are the best. It is a
sack-posset, wherein the deeper you go you will find it the sweeter.
Wisdom is a hen whose cackling we must value and consider, because
it is attended with an egg. But then, lastly, it is a nut, which,
unless you choose with judgment, may cost you a tooth, and pay you
with nothing but a worm. In consequence of these momentous truths,
the Grubaean sages have always chosen to convey their precepts and
their arts shut up within the vehicles of types and fables; which
having been perhaps more careful and curious in adorning than was
altogether necessary, it has fared with these vehicles after the
usual fate of coaches over-finely painted and gilt, that the
transitory gazers have so dazzled their eyes and filled their
imaginations with the outward lustre, as neither to regard nor
consider the person or the parts of the owner within. A misfortune
we undergo with somewhat less reluctancy, because it has been common
to us with Pythagoras, AEsop, Socrates, and other of our
predecessors.

However, that neither the world nor ourselves may any longer suffer
by such misunderstandings, I have been prevailed on, after much
importunity from my friends, to travail in a complete and laborious
dissertation upon the prime productions of our society, which,
besides their beautiful externals for the gratification of
superficial readers, have darkly and deeply couched under them the
most finished and refined systems of all sciences and arts, as I do
not doubt to lay open by untwisting or unwinding, and either to draw
up by exantlation or display by incision.

This great work was entered upon some years ago by one of our most
eminent members. He began with the "History of Reynard the Fox,"

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