Great was the surprise of the Father to see the fellow he had married the night before, and whom he supposed to be in the enjoyment of his honeymoon, tied up to a tree and looking more dead than alive; and his indignation knew no bounds when he heard that a “couple-beggar” had dared to celebrate the marriage ceremony, which fact came out in the course of the explanation Andy made of the desperate misadventure which had befallen him; but all other grievances gave way in the eyes of Father Phil to the “couple-beggar.”
“A 'couple-beggar'!—the audacious vagabones!” he cried, while he and the Squire were engaged in loosing Andy's bonds. “A 'couple-beggar' in my parish! How fast they have tied him up, Squire!” he added, as he endeavoured to undo a knot. “A 'couple-beggar,' indeed! I'll undo the marriage!—have you a knife about you, Squire?—the blessed and holy tie of matrimony!—it's a black knot, bad luck to it, and must be cut—take your leg out o' that now—and wait till I lay my hands on them—a 'couple-beggar' indeed!”
“A desperate outrage this whole affair has been!” said the Squire.
“But a 'couple-beggar,' Squire.”
“His house broken into—”
“But a 'couple-beggar'—”
“His wife taken from him—”
“But a 'couple-beggar'—”
“The laws violated—”
“But my dues, Squire—think o' that!—what would become o' them, if 'couple-beggars' is allowed to show their audacious faces in the parish. Oh, wait till next Sunday, that's all—I'll have them up before the althar, and I'll make them beg God's pardon, and my pardon, and the congregation's pardon, the audacious pair!” [Footnote: A man and woman who had been united by a “couple-beggar” were called up one Sunday by the priest in the face of the congregation, and summoned, as Father Phil threatens above, to beg God's pardon, and the priest's pardon, and the congregation's pardon; but the woman stoutly refused the last condition. “I'll beg God's pardon and your Reverence's pardon,” she said, “but I won't beg the congregation's pardon.” “You won't?” says the priest. “I won't,” says she. “Oh you conthrairy baggage,” cried his Reverence: “take her home out o' that,” said he to her husband who HAD humbled himself—“take her home, and leather her well—for she wants it; and if you don't leather her, you'll be sorry—for if you don't make her afraid of you, she'll master YOU, too—take her home and leather her.”—FACT.]