Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 56, Number 348Various
History
Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 56, Number 348
Various
England -- Periodicals; Scotland -- Periodicals
gave madam, she being one of the high top-families, the first sight of
it. With the article she fell in love, and entreated her husband to buy
it; but the sensible gentleman, having his house capitally and fully
furnished, would not. The lady still longed, but had not money enough to
make the purchase--begged to have her _quarter_ advanced. This was not
granted. She pouted a little, and then, like a wise woman, made up her
mind to be disappointed, and resumed her more than wonted cheerfulness;
but, alas! she was a daughter of Eve, as it will be seen. Christmas-day
came--it was the invariable custom of the family to receive the
sacrament. Before church-time she sent for her husband. She had a sin on
her conscience--she must confess before she could go to the altar. Her
husband was surprised. "What is it?" "You must promise not to be very
angry." "But what is it? Have you broken my grandmother's china
tea-pot?" "Oh! worse than that." "Have you thrown a bank-note in the
fire?" "Worse than that." "Have you run in debt to your abominable
smuggling lace-woman?" "Worse than that." "Woman!" quoth he sternly, and
taking down an old broadsword that hung over the chimney-piece, "confess
this instant;" and he gave the weapon a portentous flourish. "Oh! dear
Richard, don't kill me, and I'll tell you all at once. Then I, (sob,) I,
(sob,) have cribbed (sob) out of the house-money every week to buy that
chest of drawers, and you've had bad dinners and suppers this month for
it; and (sobbing) that's all." He could just keep his countenance to
say--"And where have you hid this accursed thing?" "Oh, Richard! I have
never been able to use it; for I have covered it over with a blanket
ever since I had it, for fear of your seeing it. Oh! pray, forgive me!"
You need not be told how she went to church with a "clean breast," as
the saying is. It is an unadorned fact. Her husband used to tell it
every merry Christmas to his old friend-guests." Here you have the
story, Eusebius, as I had it thus dramatically (for I could not mend it)
from the lips of the narrator.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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