About eight and twenty weeks thereafter, Maggy had a wally weamefu' o' weans to bear, an ay whan she cried, John cried, which made the kimmers and auld Ketty the Howdie laugh heartily to hear them.
Ketty. Here now, John, your wife's brought to bed wi' a bra' lad bairn, gie him your blessing.
Jock. Weel I wat he's no want that; but an there had been as muckle din at the getting o' him, as at the bearing o' him, it sude ne'er a been gotten for me. Come, come, gets in, uncle Rabbie, the corn-riddle fu' o' the three neuket scons, whang down the cheese like peats, eat and drink to my mither’s deargry, till we forget our sorrow, and then we'll see Mess John about a name to him; since we see its the way o't that the young comes into the world and chases out the auld, we maun crisen them, an they maun bury us.
Now, John and his Uncle goes to the minister; he enters, saying, guideen to you, Mr Minister, ye dinna ken my mither's dead?
Minister. Yes John, I heard so. But how is your wife?
Jock. My wife, sir, a wae worth her, for the wives o' our town and I has gotten a waking night wi' her: but we hae gotten her turn'd an stir'd again. She's born a bra' walley thumping stirra: he'll herd the kye belief to me gin he had huggers on him, and I'm com'd to you to get him a bit name.
Minister. A bit name to him, John: if ye want no more but a name to him, you may gie him that yourself.
Jock. Na, but sir, I want both the words and the water: what you say to ither fouks, say to me.
Minister I, but John, you must give security or satisfaction. You're a man under scandal.
Jock. What the muckle mischief, sir, tho' under scandal, or abune scandal, will you refuse to chrisen my wean that's honestly gotten in my ain wife's bed, beneath the blankets, 'cause I had a bystart! Canna ye crisen the weel com'd ane, let the bystart stand for its ain skaith without a name.
Minister. No John, you have been too slackly dealt with, I'll bring you to obedience by law, since you reject counsel.
Jock. A deed, sir, I wad think naething to stand a time or twa on't to please you, if there were nae body in the kirk on a ukeday, but you and the elder to flyte a wee on me. But it's waur on a Sunday, to hae a' bodys looking and laughing at me, as I had been coding the piese, suppen the kirn, or something that's no bonny, like pissing the bed.
Minister. A well, John, never mind you these things,
