On entering Edinburgh, having been recommended to the George Inn, Bristoport, I halted there; but, being quite unacquainted with the customs of living in such places, I knew not what to do, or how to conduct myself. I, however, called for a pint of beer,—and I think it was the first I ever called for in my life,—when, lo! a good-looking girl, bare-footed and bare-legged, entered with a pewter pot, almost the size of a half leg of a boot. This I thought I could not empty in a week. As I found I could not remain in this place, I sought for another, and luckily fell in with an old Newcastle acquaintance; and to her I stated my case, went with her, and felt quite at home in her house. After I had seen as much of “Auld Reekie” as I could, and been lost in admiration at the grandeur of its situation, and of its old buildings, I next day called upon Hector Gavin, an engraver, in Parliament Close. This kind man—a stranger to me—after a bit of chat about the arts, &c., threw by his tools, and was quite at my service. The warmth of his kindness I never can forget. He took me all over Edinburgh, and gave me a history and explanation of everything he thought worthy of notice. Having parted from him with his best and warmest wishes, I rose early on the next morning and walked to Glasgow. After leaving my bundle at an inn, to which I had been recommended, I took a ramble through the city. There I fell in, by chance, with an old acquaintance, and who I supposed was dead long ago. He was not like me; he could drink plenty; so that I was at no loss what to do at this inn, as I had been in Edinburgh. He called upon me next morning with a well-informed man, when they showed me everything they thought worthy of notice in Glasgow, which, though a large city, containing many handsome buildings, I was not so charmed with as I had been with Edinburgh.
From Glasgow, I set off to Dumbarton; and, on my way, took as good a survey of the country, and whatever was new to me, as I could. My landlord at Dumbarton had seen a deal of the world, either as a soldier or a gentleman’s servant, and was very communicative; and I think I spent the next day with him, in walking about and viewing everything that he could think of that might please or entertain me. After leaving him, I wished much to see the printing at the cotton works, and the print fields, as they were called, on the river Leven, near Dumbarton. To these, however, I could not get admission; so I kept passing onward, up the Leven, till Smollett’s monument, near the side of it, arrested my attention. There I stopped, for I had read Smollett’s works, and almost adored him as an author. On the pedestal of the monument, was a long Latin inscription, which I was endeavouring to translate, but was puzzled to make out; having never looked into a Latin book since I had left school; and, for the first time, I felt mortified at not having done so. While I was thus employed, up came a “lish,” clever young man, a Highlander, smartly dressed in the garb of his country. He jumped down beside me, and we together made out the translation. When this was done, on learning from me that my sole object was to see Scotland, he pressed me to accompany him to some place or other, the name of which I do not now remember. We, however, walked a long way together on the western side of Loch Lomond, and I know I did not visit Inverary, the seat of Argyle, but stopped with my companion at a grazier’s, or farmer’s, house, not a long way from it.