This book is for Anglo-Saxons. It is also in the nature of a broad hint for Scotchmen. My qualification to bestow broad hints upon the politest and most intellectual of the peoples is that I possess a large fund of contempt for the Scottish character. Also, I had the misfortune to be born on a day which is marked, sadly enough, in the calendars, BURNS DIED. So that, one way and another, I appear to have been raised up for the work before us, even as Dr. J. M. Barrie[1] was raised up to assist the fortunes of a certain brand of smoking mixture.[2] Of course, if a man speak of the Scotch in any but the most dulcet tones he invites the onslaught of a thousand witty pens. The bare title of the …
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