The man of learning, that kens no language saving Greek, and Gaelic, and Hebrew, will doubtless laugh at the curiosity of my dialect; but I would just recommend him, as he is a philosopher, to consider for a wee, that there are other things, in mortal life and in human nature, worth a moment's consideration besides old Pagan heathens--pot-hooks and hangers--the asses' bridge and the weary walls of Troy; which last city, for all that has been said and sung about it, would be found, I would stake my life upon it, could it be seen at this moment, not worth half a thought when compared with the New Town of Edinburgh.

Of all towns in the world, however, Dalkeith for my money.
If the ignorant are dumfoundered at one of their own kidney--a tailor laddie, that got the feck of his small education leathered into him at Dominie Threshem's school--thinking himself an author, I would just remind them that seeing is believing; and that they should keep up a good heart, as it is impossible to say what may yet be their own fortune before they die.

The rich man's apology I would beg; if, in this humble narrative, in this detail of manners almost hidden from the sphere of his observation, I have in any instance tramped on the tender toes of good breeding, or given just offence in breadth of expression, or vulgarity of language.

Let this, however, be my apology, that the only value of my wonderful history consists in its being as true as death--a circumstance which it could have slender pretensions to, had I coined stories, or coloured them so as to please my own fancy and that of the world.

In that case it would have been very easy for me to have made a Sinbad the Sailor's tale out of it--to have shown myself up a man such as the world has never seen except on paper--to have made Cursecowl behave like a gentleman, and the Frenchman from Penicuik crack like a Christian.