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christening o' them; or if they be that poor, they sudna get nae weans, and they wadna be fash'd syne.
Sawny. Ha ha mither. the poor fouk's like the lice, ay when they meet they marry, and maks nae' of them: and I think the ministers might christen their bits of weans for naething, the water's no sae scant; they are weel paid for their preaching, they may very weel baith marry and christen a' the poor fouks into the bargain, by the way of a maggs.
Mihter. Ay, ay, my man Sawny, marriage is a sweet thing for young fouk, and the bed undefiled.
Sawny. What the vengeance, mither, do ye think a body's to file the bed every night because they did it ance.
Mither. Na, na that's no what I mean; it is the happiness that fouk hae that's married, beside the wearied lonesome life that I ha', lying tumbling and gaunting in a bed my lane: O sirs, but a man in bed be a usefu' body, an it were but to claw ane's back, as for a body's foreside they can claw it themselves.
Sawny. Ah mither, mither, ye hae fun astring again; I think ye might a wanted a' your days, when ye hae wanted sae lang: ye hae plenty o' baith milk and meal, snuff and tobacco; but ye smell at the crack o' the
