After some consideration, another mode of exercising my talents for support occurred to me. I had, ever since I remember, an irrepressible tendency to make verses, and many of these had won applause from my friends and fellow-workmen, so I determined to press this faculty into my service on the present occasion [when the weaving industry was depressed]. Accordingly, after sundry down-sittings and contemplations, by waysides and in barns, my Muse produced the following ode [“To My Flute”].

 […]

This I designed to be printed on fine paper, with a fly-leaf attached, and folded in the style of a note, to be presented to none under a footman, by a decently-dressed, modest-looking man (myself, of course) who, after waiting ten minutes […] would, I expected, be asked into the drawing-room, where the admiring circle should be ravished with his sweet-toned minstrelsy […] With a few copies of my poem, I set out once more upon my travels, and to do justice to the scheme, it was, on several occasions, successful to the extent anticipated. In one laird’s house I received a guerdon of half a guinea ; but, after all, it was but a beggar’s work, and my soul in time grew sick of it. It was with no sighings after flesh-pots that, in a few weeks, on times becoming a little better, I settled down once more to my loom.