Come ye to the stool—it's nothing when it's over: we cannot say o'er much to you about it.
Upon Sunday thereafter, John comes with Uncle Rabie's auld wide coat, a muckle grey lang tailed wig and bag bonnet which covered his face, so that he seemed more like an old pilgrim than a young fornicator—mounts the creepy with a stiff, stiff back, as he had been a man of sixty, every one looked at him, thinking he was some old stranger who knew not the stool of repentance by another seat, so that he passed the first day unknown but to very few; yet on the second day, it came to be known, that the whole parish, and many more came to see him, which caused such a confusion, that he was absolved, and got his children baptized the next day.
But there happened a tuizie between the twa mothers who would have their names to be John. A weel, weel, says old John, their father to the minister,—deed, sir, ye maun ca' the tane John, and the ither Jock, and that will please both these enemies o' mankind.
Minister. A weel John, suppose ye do, it is still twa Johns nevertheless.
Jock. A deed sir, ye maun gie the wicked a' their will; we'se ca' the bystart Jockie, an my son Johnny Bell. On wi't some way, and let her ca't as she likes.
Minister A dear Johuny, but ye speak indifferently about this matter; ye know not the nature of it.
Jock. A mony thanks to you, mess John. Now, when ye hae christened baith my bairn and my bystart, I hope you'll forgie me the buttock mail.
Minister. John, I desire ye to be silent and to speak none here, you must keep a straight walk in time coming, free of scandal or offence.
Jock. Ay, sir, and how think ye the like o' me can walk straight wi' sic auld shevlin heeled shune as mine, amang sic rough rigs, highs and hows as I hae to harl throw.
Minister. I need not speak to you; ye are but a poor, mean, ignorant person.
Jock. Na, sir, well I wat I'm neither poor, nor yet mean. My mither’s fairly yerded now, guid be thanket, and left a' she had to Maggy and me.
Minister But hear ye this, John, you must not kiss any other women than your own wife, live justly like another honest christian, and you'll come to die well.
Jock. A black end on o' me, sir, gin ever I lay an unlawful leg upon hissie again gin they sud lie down to me
