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1821.] 





I had abundantly satisfied my curiosity with the curious things of London, I was admonished by my purse, which had suffered a sore bowel complaint from the time of my arrival, that it behoved me to think of taking it to grass and replenishment in the Salt-market. Accordingly after settling counts with Mrs Damask, I got a hackney to carry my portmanty to the wharf, where I embarked on board the Mountaineer steam-boat, bound, God willing, to the Port of Leith.

I had not been long on board when, lo! and behold who should I see, flourishing his cane, but that nice, good-tempered, fat man, whose genius and talents in the abstruse art of song writing make such a figure in Blackwood’s Magazine.

“Hey, Doctor!” quo I at length; “Hegh, sirs, but a sight of you here is gude for sair een—whar d’ye come frae?” 