"You see the hoose was taen, at ony rate," continued Sanders. "An I'll juist ging in til't instead o' Sam'l." "Quite so." "An' I cudna think to disappoint the lassie." "Your sentiments do you credit, Sanders," said the minister; "but I hope you do not enter upon the blessed state of matrimony without full consideration of its responsibilities. It is a serious business, marriage." "It's a' that," said Sanders, "but I'm willin' to stan' the risk." So, as soon as it could be done, Sanders Elshioner took to wife T'nowhead's Bell, and I remember seeing Sam'l Dickie trying to dance at the penny wedding. Years afterwards it was said in Thrums that Sam'l had treated Bell badly, but he was never sure about it himself. "It was a near thing--a michty near thing," he admitted in the square. "They say," some other weaver would remark, "'at it was you Bell liked best." "I d'na kin," Sam'l would reply, "but there's nae doot the lassie was fell fond o' me. Ou, a mere passin' fancy's ye micht say." CHAPTER IX DAVIT LUNAN'S POLITICAL REMINISCENCES When an election-day comes round now, it takes me back to the time of 1832. I would be eight or ten year old at the time. James Strachan was at the door by five o'clock in the morning in his Sabbath clothes, by arrangement. We was to go up to the hill to see them building the bonfire. Moreover, there was word that Mr. Scrimgour was to be there tossing pennies, just like at a marriage. I was wakened before that by my mother at the pans and bowls. I have always associated elections since that time with jelly-making; for just as my mother would fill the cups and tankers and bowls with jelly to save cans, she was emptying the pots and pans to make way for the ale and porter. James and me was to help to carry it home from the square--him in the pitcher and me in a flagon, because I was silly for my age and not strong in the arms.