Perthshire in bygone days

PERTHSHIRE IN BYGONE DAYS. X1H
ing, prying, and speculating" innocent in themselves, and,
taking Eve's latitude, to be indulged in with impunity, only
with this special observance — beware of the serpent.
Having thus fenced my position, and begun at the begin-
ning, I need not plead the example of James Boswell, or
Washington Irving, or N. P. Willis, or Matthias D' Amour,
because I have not followed it, but rather kept aloof from
matters that are strictly domestic, dealing more with those
belonging to public life ; unless, indeed, where the former
are matters of history, and necessary for the elucidation of
points in which the public are less or more interested. At
the same time I have felt myself in deep peril in attempting
to embody the characteristics of some people whom I have
met, for often when a man natters himself that he is writing
with impartiality and judgment, he is incurring the resent-
ment of the very parties he desires to conciliate. I am not
aware of any matter that has arisen in the progress of this
work fairly calculated to lead me into conflict with the re-
latives of any of my deceased heroes ; but, in spite of all the
councils of wisdom and prudence, fortune often malevolently
leads us away from the desired path into gloomy and bewil-
dering passages, where, in violation of all our wishes and
prayers, we commit errors that we afterwards " sairly rue."
The circumstances which come within the focus of my
narrative will best illustrate the weakness or strength of my
claim to be the casual memoirist of threescore of men and
threescore of years. Photographing men's shadows as they
pass may be a pleasant enough occupation ; but if the lens is
not properly adjusted, the resemblance to the shadow will be
as defective as we frequently see it to the substance. The
true way of embodying characteristics, is to take every man
exactly as you find him. Not as your fancy says he should
be, but as your judgment finds he really is.
A quarter of a million of people have been born into Perth-
shire since I first saw the light in it, and a quarter of a
million have been buried under its green surface. All that
remains of them is mere dust and ashes, — shadows trembling
in the wind, — but their memories are dear to those who are
still groping their devious way through this uncertain life.
We have all a part and portion in the grave. Every one has
some cherished fore-runner ready to introduce him into "the
low-browed, misty vault." Some one of the quarter million
has prepared his bed for him. He has shaken hands with
death through his very near kin . If his heart is not hardened