Why I should have thought of pitching my tent
here I cannot tell. Perhaps it was to enjoy the
pleasures of freedom, where I had so long endured
the bitterness of restraint; on the principle of the
officer, who, after he had retired from the army,
ordered his servant to continue to call him at the
hour of parade, simply that he might have the pleasure
of saying---``D-n the parade!'' and turning
to the other side to enjoy his slumbers. Or perhaps
I expected to find in the vicinity some little oldfashioned
house, having somewhat of the _rus in
urbe_, which I was ambitious of enjoying. Enough,
I went, as aforesaid, to the Canongate.
I stood by the kennel, of which I have formerly
spoken, and, my mind being at case, my bodily
organs were more delicate. I was more sensible
than heretofore, that, like the trade of Pompey in
Measure for Measure---it did in some sort---pah
---an ounce of civet, good apothecary!---Turning
from thence, my steps naturally directed themselves
to my own humble apartment, where my little
Highland landlady, as dapper and as tight as ever,
(for old women wear a hundred times better than
the hard-wrought seniors of the masculine sex,)
stood at the door, _teedling_, to herself a Highland
song as she shook a table napkin over the forestair,
and then proceeded to fold it up neatly for
future service.
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