On the first of March 1751, Robert De Lancaster, a native of North Wales, and grandfather of my hero, had assembled his friends and neighbours to celebrate, according to custom, the anniversary of their tutelary saint. I enter at once upon my story without any introduction, having already announced this novel in my Memoirs, and I flatter myself, if it is perused with that candour, to which fair dealing has some claim, it will serve to entertain the major part of its readers, disappoint not many and corrupt not one.…
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