Even as I was reading these fables of my millions, there lay on the desk before me a statement of the exact posture of my affairs […]
Instead of the picturesque fables* that liven the pages of ‘Sir John Mandeville’ and of many more authentic travellers, he gives us no less picturesque facts, and facts in great abundance.
The whaup, frae the south, that bluiters / In the bogs, like a soo.
And thoughts that once wrung groans of anguish, Now cause but some mild tears to flow.
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