PREFACE. THE complaint of Johnson regarding the hopelessness of fame which attended his lexicographical labours, has hitherto been common to the Industrious Obscure who busy themselves in the compilation of Tourist's, Guides, Peerages, School-Books, and Almanacks. Such publications are usually anonymous, and the purchaser thinks no more of the unknown author than he thinks of the man who made his hat or tanned the leather of his shoes. Even when they bear an author's name, no distinct idea is attached to the words-Philips perhaps, or Carey, or Goldsmith, or Debrett-any more than to the maker's name on the blade of a table-knife, or the still more hopeless initials so carefully impressed upon his work by the goldsmith. An attempt is here made to elevate a topographical work into the superior region of the belles lettres. It has been forced upon the notice of the present author by the success of several similar but less comprehensive works, that an interest may attach to localities, of such a sort as to excite and bring into play many of the higher order of sentiments which pervade our common nature. Cities are more than mere collections of houses and men; hills are not merely accidental eminences of the earth; rivers, fortuitous confluences of running waters; stones, mere blocks. Such they might be when the primeval savage first set his foot amongst them; but such they are not now, after so long a connexion with the fortunes and feelings of civilized man. What is it that gives the sculptured stones of Greece a superior value to the unquarried marble over which they have risen? It is because, though both are alike as old as the creation, the former have received attentions at the hands of men a hundred ages ago, have been looked upon with veneration by millions of human beings, and yet remain monuments of their early power and ingenuity. A house may thus be more than a domicile, a hill more than an eminence, a river more than a stream of flowing water; and thus it is that, in the words of one who must have been perfectly acquainted with this occult philosophy, we may find Tongues in the trees, books in the running brooks, Under these impressions, I have, in this work, endeavoured to avoid, as much as the design of my publisher would allow, the statistical information which has hitherto been considered indispensable in topographical works; certain that that department of the subject has already been so sufficiently illustrated as to preclude the hope of originality, while it is equally im possible in any way to inspire it with the least general interest. I have avoided, with almost equal solicitude, details of historical facts, in cases where these did not possess the merit of a fame already achieved; and I have been alike studious not to indulge in the researches of mere antiquarianism. The unideaed jargons of botany and geology have met with no better attention; because, though aware of what Horace says, "Sunt quos," &c.—I am also certain that these studies are appreciated only by the wise few. To avoid mere descriptions of scenery has been equally my care; for, even although I possessed, what I do not possess in any extraordinary degree, a taste for the beautiful or grand in nature, and were capable of delineating both with force and distinctness, I know that it is impossible for any reader to apprehend and combine in his imagination the ingredients of a scene painted by the pen. The great general design of this work has been to direct attention almost exclusively to the poetical and romantic; or, to state the principle on a still broader scale, to whatever points in the country could be supposed to interest the largest portion of the public. That Scotland is not deficient in localities of such a noble order, will I think be readily allowed. In order to render my narrative, if possible, still more acceptable, I have interspersed it with innumerable original anecdotes of a local character, many of which are hu、 It will also be found to comprehend a great body of matter tending to the valuable purpose of illustrating the manners of former times. In all that relates to the selection of materials, it has been my prime and governing object to be original; to say as little as possible where I could say nothing new, and to be as morous. copious as my limits would allow, when I possessed information that was at once novel and agreeable. But It will be readily conceded, that these objects have not been attained without the employment of considerble pains. It would have been easy to copy the humdrum details and innumerable errors of my predecessors, as each and all of them have done in their turn. to produce a work aiming at so much originality and correctness required a very different process. It scarcely becomes an author to speak at all, and far less with pride, of his labours; but it is perhaps allowable to say something in the present case, in order that the reader may know to what extent he is to rely upon the accuracy of the details which he has condescended to peruse. Without alluding to previous historical studies, I may be permitted to state, that after employing several months of the last year in the perusal of former topographical publications and manuscripts, I began, in the early part of summer, to make a round of deliberate pedestrian tours through the country. Instead of the pilgrim's scallop in my hat, I took for motto the glowing expression of Burns, "I have no dearer aim than to make leisurely journeys through Caledonia; to sit on the fields of her battles; to wander on the romantic banks of her streams; and to muse by the stately towers of venerable ruins, once the honoured abodes of her heroes." In order to secure an acquaintance with every remarkable locality, and with its popular legends, I carried letters from my city friends, giving me a claim upon the best offices of the most intelligent persons resident in the districts which I was to visit. I was thus generally successful in eliciting, over and above the kindness of many a worthy and true-hearted Scot, the best information that was to be had regarding all the more attractive localities of my native land. Goldsmith speaks with just contempt of the travellers who are whirled through Europe in a postchaise. I sedulously eschewed this practical absurdity. Except in cases where stage-coaches could convey me over a desolate and uninteresting tract, I constantly adopted the more deliberate and independent mode of locomotion which nature suggests. I had thus an opportunity of becoming familiarly acquainted at once with the face of the country and the traditions of the people; I could move fast or slow as I pleased, and make such digressions from the main route as seemed necessary. I traversed almost every vale in the lowlands of Scotland, and a great proportion of those in the more northerly region. I saw all the towns except three or four. My peregrinations occupied upwards of nineteen weeks, and extended to the sum of two thousand and twenty-six miles. In presenting this array of doings and sufferings to the public, I disclaim being influenced by the sentiment which caused Dogberry to assert himself " one that had had losses." What I say is mere naked truth, told for the simple purpose of assuring the reader, that the work he has now got into his hands is not the catch-penny compilation of a bookseller's back shop; no patched and contorted tissue of stolen rags, like too many similar publications; that it is not the crude fruit of a literary hot-bed, inflated into premature perfection by the bribe of a greedy publisher; but the result of an honest enthusiasm-an enthusiasm which the consideration of pecuniary profit could neither nourish nor inspire. I consider these assurances, moreover, the |