As for a southward direction, it
is not to be hoped for in my fondest dreams. I
am informed that Scottish literature, like Scottish
whisky, will be presently laid under a prohibitory
duty. But enough of this. If any reader is dull
enough not to comprehend the advantages which,
in point of circulation, a compact book has over a
collection of fugitive numbers, let him try the
range of a gun loaded with hail-shot, against that
of the same piece charged with an equal weight of
lead consolidated in a single bullet.
Besides, it was of less consequence that I should
have published periodically, since I did not mean
to solicit or accept of the contributions of friends,
or the criticisms of those who may be less kindly
disposed. Notwithstanding the excellent examples
which might be quoted, I will establish no
begging-box, either under the name of a lion's-head
or an ass's. What is good or ill shall be mine
own, or the contribution of friends to whom I may
have private access. Many of my voluntary assistants
might be cleverer than myself, and then I
should have a brilliant article appear among my
chiller effusions, like a patch of lace on a Scottish
cloak of Galashiels grey.
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