The country people seem desperately poor.

But they don't lose their robustness.
In the solid cities--the solidest you ever saw, all being of granite--such as Edinburgh and Aberdeen, where you see the prosperous class, they look the sturdiest and most independent fellows you ever saw.

As they grow old they all look like blue-bellied Presbyterian elders.

Scotch to the marrow--everybody and everything seem--bare knees alike on the street and in the hotel with dress coats on, bagpipes--there's no sense in these things, yet being Scotch they live forever.

The first men I saw early this morning on the street in front of the hotel were two weather-beaten old chaps, with gray beards under their chins.
"Guddddd Murrrrninggggg, Andy," said one.