infallible creature must alone be right. So it proved with the laird.
One Scripture text followed another, not in the least connected,
and one sentence of the profound Mr. Wringhim's sermons after
another, proving the duty of family worship, till the laird lost
patience, and tossing himself into bed, said carelessly that he
would leave that duty upon her shoulders for one night.

The meek mind of Lady Dalcastle was somewhat disarranged by
this sudden evolution. She felt that she was left rather in an
awkward situation. However, to show her unconscionable spouse
that she was resolved to hold fast her integrity, she kneeled down
and prayed in terms so potent that she deemed she was sure of
making an impression on him. She did so; for in a short time the
laird began to utter a response so fervent that she was utterly
astounded, and fairly driven from the chain of her orisons. He
began, in truth, to sound a nasal bugle of no ordinary calibre--the
notes being little inferior to those of a military trumpet. The lady
tried to proceed, but every returning note from the bed burst on
her ear with a louder twang, and a longer peal, till the concord of
sweet sounds became so truly pathetic that the meek spirit of the
dame was quite overcome; and, after shedding a flood of tears,
she arose from her knees, and retired to the chimney-corner with
her Bible in her lap, there to spend the hours in holy meditation
till such time as the inebriated trumpeter should awaken to a
sense of propriety.

The laird did not awake in any reasonable time; for, he being
overcome with fatigue and wassail, his sleep became sounder,
and his Morphean measures more intense. These varied a little in
their structure; but the general run of the bars sounded something