It was customary, in those days, for the bride's-man and maiden,
and a few select friends, to visit the new-married couple after
they had retired to rest, and drink a cup to their healths, their
happiness, and a numerous posterity. But the laird delighted not
in this: he wished to have his jewel to himself; and, slipping away
quietly from his jovial party, he retired to his chamber to his
beloved, and bolted the door. He found her engaged with the
writings of the Evangelists, and terribly demure. The laird went
up to caress her; but she turned away her head, and spoke of the
follies of aged men, and something of the broad way that leadeth
to destruction. The laird did not thoroughly comprehend this
allusion; but being considerably flustered by drinking, and
disposed to take all in good part, he only remarked, as he took off
his shoes and stockings, that, "whether the way was broad or
narrow, it was time that they were in their bed."
"Sure, Mr. Colwan, you won't go to bed to-night, at such an
important period of your life, without first saying prayers for
yourself and me."
When she said this, the laird had his head down almost to the
ground, loosing his shoe-buckle; but when he heard of prayers, on
such a night, he raised his face suddenly up, which was all over
as flushed and red as a rose, and answered:
"Prayers, Mistress! Lord help your crazed head, is this a night for
prayers?"
He had better have held his peace.
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