"
"Ha!" said my lady, "thou wast ever an impudent fellow: and many a
vile roguery have I kept from my poor mother.--Yet, to my knowledge,
she thought you no saint."
"Ay, poor lady," continued he, "she used now-and-then to catechize me;
and was _sure_ I was not so good as I ought to be:--'For, son,' she
would cry, 'these late hours, these all night works, and to come home
so _sober_ cannot be right.-I'm not sure, if I were to know all, (and
yet I'm afraid of inquiring after your ways) whether I should not have
reason to wish you were brought home in wine, rather than to come in
so sober, and so late, as you do.'
"Once, I remember, in the summer-time, I came home about six in the
morning, and met the good lady unexpectedly by the garden back-door,
of which I had a key to let myself in at all hours. I started,
and would have avoided her: but she called me to her, and then I
approached her with an air, 'What brings you, Madam, into the garden
at so early an hour?' turning my face from her; for I had a few
scratches on my forehead--with a thorn, or so--which I feared she
would be more inquisitive about than I cared she should.
"'And what makes you,' said she, 'so early here, Billy?--What a
rakish figure dost thou make!--One time or other these courses will
yield you but little comfort, on reflection: would to God thou wast
but happily married!'
"'So, Madam, the old wish!--I'm not so bad as you think me:--I hope I
have not merited so great a punishment.
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