Then I fell asleep and woke at Dumfries just in time to bundle out and get into the slow Galloway train.

There was a man on the platform whose looks I didn't like, but he never glanced at me, and when I caught sight of myself in the mirror of an automatic machine I didn't wonder.

With my brown face, my old tweeds, and my slouch, I was the very model of one of the hill farmers who were crowding into the third-class carriages.
I travelled with half a dozen in an atmosphere of shag and clay pipes.
They had come from the weekly market, and their mouths were full of prices.

I heard accounts of how the lambing had gone up the Cairn and the Deuch and a dozen other mysterious waters.

Above half the men had lunched heavily and were highly flavoured with whisky, but they took no notice of me.