THE ALEHOUSE PARTY:
A CHAPTER FROM AN UNPUBLISHED NOVEL.
By the Authors of “The Odd Volume.”
The night drave on wi’ sangs and clatter,
And aye the ale was growing better.—Burns.
On the evening of that day which saw Mrs Wallace enter Park a bride, Robin Kinniburgh and a number of his cronies met at the village alehouse to celebrate the happy event. Every chair, stool, and bench being occupied, Robin and his chum, Tammy Tacket, took possession of the top of the meal girnel; and as they were elevated somewhat above the company, they appeared like two rival provosts, looking down on their surrounding bailies.
“It’s a gude thing,” said Tammy, “that the wives and weans are keepit out the night; folk get enough o’ them at hame.”
“I wonder,” said Jamie Wilson, “what’s become o’ Andrew Gilmour.”
“Hae ye no heard,” said Robin, “that his wife died yesterday?”
“Is she dead?” exclaimed Tammy Tacket. “Faith,” continued he, giving Robin a jog with his elbow, “I think a man might hae waur furniture in his house than a dead wife.”
“That’s a truth,” replied Jamie Wilson, “as mony an honest man kens to his cost.—But send round the pint stoup, and let us hae a health to the laird and the leddy, and mony happy years to them and theirs.”