Though it was the wish of the Members of the Poco-curante Society (who
have lately done me the honor of electing me their Secretary) that I
should prefix my name to the following Miscellany, it is but fair to them
and to myself to state, that, except in the "painful pre-eminence" of
being employed to transcribe their lucubrations, my claim to such a
distinction in the title-page is not greater than that of any other
gentleman, who has contributed his share to the contents of the volume.
I had originally intended to take this opportunity of giving some account
of the origin and objects of our Institution, the names and characters of
the different members, etc.--but as I am at present preparing for the
press the First Volume of the "Transactions of the Pococurante Society," I
shall reserve for that occasion all further details upon the subject, and
content myself here with referring, for a general insight into our tenets,
to a Song which will be found at the end of this work and which is sung to
us on the first day of every month, by one of our oldest members, to the
tune of (as far as I can recollect, being no musician,) either "Nancy
Dawson" or "He stole away the Bacon."
It may be as well also to state for the information of those critics who
attack with the hope of being answered, and of being thereby brought into
notice, that it is the rule of this Society to return no other answer to
such assailants, than is contained in the three words "_non curat
Hippoclides_" (meaning, in English, "Hippoclides does not care a fig,")
which were spoken two thousand years ago by the first founder of Poco-
curantism, and have ever since been adopted as the leading _dictum_ of the
sect.