The Ayrshire Legatees

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.