In the five-and-twentieth year of his age, he had fallen in love with my
mother, Marion Laverock, at the christening of a neighbour's bairn, where
they both happened to forgather; little, I daresay, jealousing, at the
time their eyes first met, that fate had destined them for a pair, and to
be the honoured parents of me, their only bairn. Seeing my father's
heart was catched as in the net of the fowler, she took every lawful
means, such as adding another knot to her cockernony, putting up her hair
in screw curls, and so on, to follow up her advantage; the result of all
which was, that, after three months' courtship, she wrote a letter out to
her friends at Loanhead, telling them of what was more than likely to
happen, and giving a kind invitation to such of them as might think it
worth their whiles to come in and be spectators of the ceremony.--And a
prime day I am told they had of it, having, by advice of more than one,
consented to make it a penny wedding; and hiring Deacon Laurie's
malt-barn at five shillings, for the express purpose.
Many yet living, among whom James Batter, who was the best-man, and
Duncan Imrie, the heelcutter in the Flesh-Market Close, are still above
board to bear solemn testimony to the grandness of the occasion, and the
uncountable numerousness of the company, with such a display of
mutton-broth, swimming thick with raisins,--and roasted jiggets of
lamb,--to say nothing of mashed turnips and champed potatoes,--as had not
been seen in the wide parish of Dalkeith in the memory of man. It was
not only my father's bridal day, but it brought many a lad and lass
together by way of partners at foursome reels and Hieland jigs, whose
courtship did not end in smoke, couple above couple dating the day of
their happiness from that famous forgathering. There were no less than
three fiddlers, two of them blind with the small-pox, and one naturally;
and a piper with his drone and chanter, playing as many pibrochs as would
have deaved a mill-happer,--all skirling, scraping, and bumming away
throughither, the whole afternoon and night, and keeping half the
countryside dancing, capering, and cutting, in strathspey step and quick
time, as if they were without a weary, or had not a bone in their bodies.
In the days of darkness, the whole concern would have been imputed to
magic and glamour; and douce folk, finding how they were transgressing
over their usual bounds, would have looked about them for the wooden pin
that auld Michael Scott the warlock drave in behind the door, leaving the
family to dance themselves to death at their leisure.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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