land, we got two vacancies in a stage-coach for my wife and

daughter; but with Andrew Pringle, my son, I was obligated to mount
aloft on the outside. I had some scruple of conscience about this,

for I was afraid of my decorum. I met, however, with nothing but
the height of discretion from the other outside passengers, although

I jealoused that one of them was a light woman. Really I had no
notion that the English were so civilised; they were so well bred,

and the very duddiest of them spoke such a fine style of language,
that when I looked around on the country, I thought myself in the

land of Canaan. But it's extraordinary what a power of drink the
coachmen drink, stopping and going into every change-house, and yet

behaving themselves with the greatest sobriety. And then they are
all so well dressed, which is no doubt owing to the poor rates. I

am thinking, however, that for all they cry against them, the poor
rates are but a small evil, since they keep the poor folk in such

food and raiment, and out of the temptations to thievery; indeed,
such a thing as a common beggar is not to be seen in this land,

excepting here and there a sorner or a ne'er-do-weel.
When we had got to the outskirts of London, I began to be ashamed of

the sin of high places, and would gladly have got into the inside of
the coach, for fear of anybody knowing me; but although the

multitude of by-goers was like the kirk scailing at the Sacrament, I
saw not a kent face, nor one that took the least notice of my

situation. At last we got to an inn, called The White Horse,
Fetter-Lane, where we hired a hackney to take us to the lodgings

provided for us here in Norfolk Street, by Mr. Pawkie, the Scotch
solicitor, a friend of Andrew Pringle, my son. Now it was that we

began to experience the sharpers of London; for it seems that there
are divers Norfolk Streets. Ours was in the Strand (mind that when

you direct), not very far from Fetter-Lane; but the hackney driver
took us away to one afar off, and when we knocked at the number we

thought was ours, we found ourselves at a house that should not be
told. I was so mortified, that I did not know what to say; and when

Andrew Pringle, my son, rebuked the man for the mistake, he only
gave a cunning laugh, and said we should have told him whatna

Norfolk Street we wanted. Andrew stormed at this--but I discerned
it was all owing to our own inexperience, and put an end to the

contention, by telling the man to take us to Norfolk Street in the
Strand, which was the direction we had got. But when we got to the

door, the coachman was so extortionate, that another hobbleshaw
arose. Mrs. Pringle had been told that, in such disputes, the best

way of getting redress was to take the number of the coach; but, in
trying to do so, we found it fastened on, and I thought the

hackneyman would have gone by himself with laughter. Andrew, who
had not observed what we were doing, when he saw us trying to take

off the number, went like one demented, and paid the man, I cannot
tell what, to get us out, and into the house, for fear we should

have been mobbit.
I have not yet seen the colonel's agents, so can say nothing as to

the business of our coming; for, landing at Gravesend, we did not
bring our trunks with us, and Andrew has gone to the wharf this

morning to get them, and, until we get them, we can go nowhere,
which is the occasion of my writing so soon, knowing also how you

and the whole parish would be anxious to hear what had become of us;
and I remain, dear sir, your friend and pastor,

ZACHARIAH PRINGLE.
On Saturday evening, Saunders Dickie, the Irvine postman, suspecting

that this letter was from the Doctor, went with it himself, on his
own feet, to Mr. Micklewham, although the distance is more than two

miles, but Saunders, in addition to the customary TWAL PENNIES on
the postage, had a dram for his pains. The next morning being wet,

Mr. Micklewham had not an opportunity of telling any of the
parishioners in the churchyard of the Doctor's safe arrival, so that

when he read out the request to return thanks (for he was not only
school-master and session-clerk, but also precentor), there was a

murmur of pleasure diffused throughout the congregation, and the
greatest curiosity was excited to know what the dangers were, from

which their worthypastor and his whole family had so thankfully
escaped in their voyage to London; so that, when the service was

over, the elders adjourned to the session-house to hear the letter
read; and many of the heads of families, and other respectable

parishioners, were admitted to the honours of the sitting, who all
sympathised, with the greatest sincerity, in the sufferings which

their minister and his family had endured. Mr. Daff, however, was
justly chided by Mr. Craig, for rubbing his hands, and giving a sort

of sniggering laugh, at the Doctor's sitting on high with a light
woman. But even Mr. Snodgrass was seen to smile at the incident of

taking the number off the coach, the meaning of which none but
himself seemed to understand.

When the epistle had been thus duly read, Mr. Micklewham promised,
for the satisfaction of some of the congregation, that he would get

two or three copies made by the best writers in his school, to be
handed about the parish, and Mr. Icenor remarked, that truly it was

a thing to be held in remembrance, for he had not heard of greater
tribulation by the waters since the shipwreck of the Apostle Paul.

CHAPTER III--THE LEGACY
Soon after the receipt of the letters which we had the pleasure of

communicating in the foregoing chapter, the following was received
from Mrs. Pringle, and the intelligence it contains is so

interesting and important, that we hasten to lay it before our
readers:-

LETTER VI
Mrs. Pringle to Miss Mally Glencairn--LONDON.

My Dear Miss Mally--You must not expect no particulars from me of
our journey; but as Rachel is writing all the calamities that befell

us to Bell Tod, you will, no doubt, hear of them. But all is
nothing to my losses. I bought from the first hand, Mr. Treddles

the manufacturer, two pieces of muslin, at Glasgow, such a thing not
being to be had on any reasonable terms here, where they get all

their fine muslins from Glasgow and Paisley; and in the same bocks
with them I packit a small crock of our ain excellent poudered

butter, with a delap cheese, for I was told that such commodities
are not to be had genuine in London. I likewise had in it a pot of

marmlet, which Miss Jenny Macbride gave me at Glasgow, assuring me
that it was not only dentice, but a curiosity among the English, and

my best new bumbeseen goun in peper. Howsomever, in the nailing of
the bocks, which I did carefully with my oun hands, one of the nails

gaed in ajee, and broke the pot of marmlet, which, by the jolting of
the ship, ruined the muslin, rottened the peper round the goun,

which the shivers cut into more than twenty great holes. Over and
above all, the crock with the butter was, no one can tell how,

crackit, and the pickle lecking out, and mixing with the seerip of
the marmlet, spoilt the cheese. In short, at the object I beheld,

when the bocks was opened, I could have ta'en to the greeting; but I
behaved with more composity on the occasion, than the Doctor thought

it was in the power of nature to do. Howsomever, till I get a new
goun and other things, I am obliged to be a prisoner; and as the

Doctor does not like to go to the counting-house of the agents
without me, I know not what is yet to be the consequence of our

journey. But it would need to be something; for we pay four guineas
and a half a week for our dry lodgings, which is at a degree more

than the Doctor's whole stipend. As yet, for the cause of these
misfortunes, I can give you no account of London; but there is, as

everybody kens, little thrift in their housekeeping. We just buy
our tea by the quarter a pound, and our loaf sugar, broken in a

peper bag, by the pound, which would be a disgrace to a decent
family in Scotland; and when we order dinner, we get no more than

just serves, so that we have no cold meat if a stranger were coming
by chance, which makes an unco bare house. The servan lasses I

cannot abide; they dress better at their wark than ever I did on an