Yesterday we dined at
Haddington, which has been a place of some consideration, but is
now gone to decay; and in the evening arrived at this metropolis,
of which I can say very little. It is very romantic, from its
situation on the declivity of a hill, having a fortified castle
at the top, and a royal palace at the bottom. The first thing
that strikes the nose of a stranger, shall be nameless; but what
first strikes the eye, is the unconscionable height of the
houses, which generally rise to five, six, seven, and eight
stories, and, in some places (as I am assured), to twelve. This
manner of building, attended with numberless inconveniences, must
have been originally owing to want of room. Certain it is, the
town seems to be full of people: but their looks, their language,
and their customs, are so different from ours, that I can hardly
believe myself in Great-Britain.
The inn at which we put up (if it may be so called) was so filthy
and disagreeable in all respects, that my uncle began to fret,
and his gouty symptoms to recur -- Recollecting, however, that he
had a letter of recommendation to one Mr Mitchelson, a lawyer, he
sent it by his servant, with a compliment, importing that we
would wait upon him next day in person; but that gentleman
visited us immediately, and insisted upon our going to his own
house, until he could provide lodgings for our accommodation.
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