After paying our money at the door, never, while I live and breathe, will I forget, what we saw and heard that night; it just looks to me, by a’ the world, when I think on’t, like a fairy dream. The place was crowded to the ee, Maister Glen and me having nearly got our ribs dung in, before we fand a seat, and them behint were obliged to mount the back benches to get a sight. Right to the fore hand of us was a large green curtain, some five or six ells wide, a guid deal the waur of the wear, having seen service through two or three simmers, and just in the front of it were eight or ten penny candles, stuck in a board fastened to the ground, to let us see the players’ feet like, when they came on the stage, and even before they came on the stage, for the curtain being scrimpit in length, we saw legs and feet moving behind the scenes very neatly, while twa blind fiddlers, they had brought with them, played the bonniest ye ever heard. Odd, the very music was worth a sixpence of itsell. The place, as I said before, was choke full, just to excess, so that ane could scarcely breathe. Indeed I never saw ony pairt sae crowded, not even at a tent-preaching, when Mr Roarer was giving his discourses on the building of Solomon’s Temple. We were obligated to have the windows opened for a mouthful of fresh air, the barn being as close as a baker’s oven, my neighbour and me fanning our red faces with our hats to keep us cool, and, though all were half stewed, we had the worst o’t, the toddy we had ta’en having fomented the blood of our bodies into a perfect fever.