To hear our People speak of Scotland, or of the Scots Affairs or People, it would make a Stranger think that this same Place call'd Scotland was some remote Country in the East-Indies, or about Madagascar, or some Island in the Fretum Magellanicum, the North-West Passages, the South Seas, or somewhere very unfrequented, where very few People ever came, and from whence, like our News from Muscovy, Things were very uncertainly related, and our Accounts from thence very little to be depended upon.

The learned Gentlemen of this Party, tho' skill'd in History, Masters of Geography, and have seen great Part of the World in their Travels, they'll tell you that Scotland is a barren, uncultivated, desolate Country; that the Land is all barren and will hardly maintain the People that live there – Nay, they will very learnedly ask sometimes, if there is any Mutton, or any Beef, or any Butter, or any such thing as Milk in Scotland – The Highlanders they take to be a Sort of Monsters, and ask, if they live upon Roots and the Bark of the Trees.