"Richard Blackwell," says I, proudly.
"Speak after me, then," says he—"I, Richard Blackwell, do take thee, Sophia Cochrane, to be my married wife, and do promise to be a loving husband unto thee until death shall separate us."
I did as I was ordered by the body, and he next caused Miss Cochrane to take me by the right hand, and repeat a few words after him, muckle to the same effect. This being done—"Richard Blackwell and Sophia Cochrane," added the carle, with an air o' mock solemnity, "I proclaim you husband and wife."
"Get on with the ceremony, ye drunken neer-do-weel," bawled I; "the five shillings will surely go a deal farther than that. We're not half married!"
"Try to get off, if you can, and see how ye'll thrive," says Peter, and staggered off, leaving us to enjoy what I considered at the time a mere farce or bit o' harmless diversion.
Having returned to the inn, we had another bottle o' brandy, to drink to the health and happiness o' Mr and Mrs Blackwell; and, as I was willing to carry on the joke, I good-naturedly humoured the fools—for what will a man not do in drink—and thanked them with sham politeness for their kind wishes. The bill at length was sent up to our lordships; but, as the cousin had no small change on him, and as the leddies had left their purses behind them in the bustle o' setting off, I had to pay dearly for my "whistle," but I cared not. Having got a' settled, we packed into the chaise, and drove off for Wooler; but I was so far gone, that I lay as sound as a tap on the auldest Cochrane's shoulder, until we came within a mile o' the village; and when I awoke the mercury had fallen so low, that I felt as stupid and dead as a door nail. No sooner, however, did we reach their door in the main street, than I banged up in the chaise, and attempted to jump out; but, alack-a-day! my legs fell from beneath me as if they did not belong to my body, while my puir head swam round and round, like a light bung in a gutter.—"Will ony o' you chiels," hiccuped I to the crowd that stood in front o' the chaise window, "carry me to Lucky Hunter's?"
"Ye maun pack in wi' your wife, Billy," cried they.
"I've no wife," stammered I; "I'm Ma-ma-ister Blackwell, the braw sou-sou-ter o' Selkirk."
At hearing this, some witty rascal roared out—
"Doun wi' the souters o' Selkirk,
And up wi' the Yearl o' Hume."