CONCLUSION. 
Conclusion-. 
When the writer first commenced to record these 
reminiscences, it was without the most remote idea 
or intention of writing 48 chapters. Having been ori- 
ginally induced to try something of this sort, by 
perusing a few numbers of old memories, which ap- 
peared in the Observer a considerable time ago, 
under the heading of “ The Days of Old,” we have 
run, or rather been carried, on by old recollections, 
until no doubt many of the numerous readers of the 
Observer have been saying amongst themselves, Ad 
nauseam^'^ *‘Hold, enough.” Besides, the subject is 
not a very extensive one, knd is apt to lapse into a 
sameness, repetitions, under different forms or aspects, 
of which defect I am fully conscious, when reading 
ever the chapters in print. I have to thank the Editor 
of the Observer^ for the readiness with which he has 
always inserted these writings, as also the general readers 
of that newspaper for the absence of adverse criticism. 
Their kindness and good nature in this respect I fully 
appreciate, as the style of writing contains many errors, 
superfluities, and general imperfections. The excuse 
for which must be, just what our readers are already 
well aware of : that I have no pretensions whatever 
to correctness in writing for publication. How can I 
being “only a coffee planter, who has spent all his 
life amongst black people, you know”? If they have 
served to amuse any of my fellow planters in their lonely 
life, the writing of them has also been an amuse- 
ment to myself, in recalling old memories, which old 
people love to do, and thus the persistent writing on 
my part, and the persistent forbearance on theirs, has per- 
haps afforded far more amusement to myself than to them. 
It is not at all improbable that my name may again 
appear in the Observer, as a contributor, should the 
Editor desire it, but, if not, it is sure to appear some 
day, who knows how soon, as one who will contri- 
bute no more, when it appears for the last time. It 
is no use our friends saying, ‘ ‘ Come, come, don’t leave 
us in low spirits, after all the queer stories you have 
written, you are yet fresh and hearty,” A man of 
1844, who has spent nearly a quarter of a century in 
Ceylon, cannot be so foolish as but to know that his 
life is far spent. 
Headers, farewell. It may be, “we part to meet 
again,” and it may be not; but, if not, you may rest 
assured, there is one “behind the arras,” who takes 
a lively interest in all that is going on in the land 
where he has sojourned so long, one who takes and 
ever will take a lively interest in yourselves. 
Always your friend and well wisher, 
P. D. MiLhIE. 
Bdinburgh, 10th May, 1877. 
