[A] wooden leg and an empty coat sleeve, and fourteen poor pennies a-day, are all that I have got by allowing myself to be seduced by the cursed din of a Scotchman's bagpipe. I was once a good yeoman, in Kent, and in an evil hour went to the fair at Maidstone. The drum ruffed, and the pipe screamed in the market-place, and away I went to see what was to happen. […] I fairly forgot myself, and scarcely ever knew where I was or what I was doing, till I found myself on board a ship, and saw the olive hills and vineyards of Spain, […]