CHAPTER XVI.
Matrimonial Ceremonies.—Sweethearts.—"Un Serrement de main vaut dix serments de bouche."—"Jack's kisses were nicer than that."—A Platonic Lover.—"Excuse me, I'm married."—A wicked Trick.
n Scotland, matrimonial ceremonies are as simple as they are practical. No priest, no mayor brought into requisition; you take God and your friends to witness. You present your choice to these latter, and say: "I take Mary for my wife." The girl on her part says: "I take Donald for my husband," and there is an end of the matter. I need not say that you can go to Church if you prefer it.
Elementary as the ceremony is, the Scotchman holds it none the less sacred for that. It is not without long reflection that he enters into the holy estate; and the law, which knows the sagacity and constancy of the Scot, has not hesitated to sanction such alliances.
This matrimony made easy in nowise lures the Scot into rushing at it headlong. Young couples sometimes remain engaged for years before they think of taking the great step. This is often because the man's resources are not sufficient for housekeeping, but oftener still because the young people want to know each other thoroughly.
I appreciate their prudence in the first case as much as I blame it in the second.
How can two affianced people know each other, even if for years they try ever so hard?
Love easily lives on trifles, flirtation, sentimental walks, billets doux, and so on. The sky is serene, the lovers sail on a smooth sea. How can they know if they are really good sailors before they have encountered a storm?
When cares or misfortunes come, to say nothing of the price of butter and the length of the butcher's bill, then they make acquaintance. True love resists these shocks and comes out triumphant, but the other kind succumbs.