“The author is apprehensive that his work is not yet as accurate and as much simplified as it may be.  If, however, the disadvantages of lingering under a broken constitution, and of being able to devote to this subject only a small portion of his time, snatched from the active pursuits of a business life, (active as far as imperfect health permits him to be,) are any apology for his defects, he hopes that the candid will set down the apology to his credit.—­Not that he would beg a truce with the gentlemen criticks and reviewers.  Any compromise with them would betray a want of self-confidence and moral courage, which he would by no means, be willing to avow.”—­Kirkham’s Gram., (Adv. of 1829,) p. 7.

30.  Now, to this painful struggle, this active contention between business and the vapours, let all credit be given, and all sympathy be added; but, as an aid to the studies of healthy children, what better is the book, for any forbearance or favour that may have been won by this apology?  It is well known, that, till phrenology became the common talk, the author’s principal business was, to commend his own method of teaching grammar, and to turn this publication to profit.  This honourable industry, aided, as himself suggests, by “not much less than one thousand written recommendations,” is said to have wrought for him, in a very few years, a degree of success and fame, at which both the eulogists of Murray and the friends of English grammar may hang their heads.  As to a “compromise” with any critic or reviewer whom he cannot bribe, it is enough to say of that, it is morally impossible.  Nor was it necessary for such an author to throw the gauntlet, to prove himself not lacking in “self-confidence.”  He can show his “moral courage,” only by daring do right.

31.  In 1829, after his book had gone through ten editions, and the demand for it had become so great as “to call forth twenty thousand copies during the year,” the prudent author, intending to veer his course according to the trade-wind, thought it expedient to retract his former acknowledgement to “our best modern philologists,” and to profess himself a modifier of the Great Compiler’s code.  Where then holds the anchor of his praise?  Let the reader say, after weighing and comparing his various pretensions: 

“Aware that there is, in the publick mind, a strong predilection for the doctrines contained in Mr. Murray’s grammar, he has thought proper, not merely from motives of policy, but from choice, to select his principles chiefly from that work; and, moreover, to adopt, as far as consistent with his own views, the language of that eminent philologist.  In no instance has he varied from him, unless he conceived that, in so doing, some practical advantage would be gained.  He hopes, therefore, to escape the censure so frequently and so justly awarded to those unfortunate innovators who have not scrupled to alter, mutilate, and torture the text of that able writer, merely to gratify an itching propensity to figure in the world as authors, and gain an ephemeral popularity by arrogating to themselves the credit due to another.” [13]—­Kirkham’s Gram., 1829, p. 10.