But if Johnny was as still as a fish at the Quaker meetings, he had
enough to say at home, and at the parish meetings. He had such a spice
of the tyrant in him, that he could not even entertain the idea of
marrying, without it must be a sort of shift for the mastery. He,
therefore, not only cast his eye on one of the most high-spirited women
that he knew in his own society, but actually one on the largest scale
of physical dimensions. If he had one hero of his admiration more than
another, it was a little dwarf at Mansfield, who used to wear a
soldier's jacket, and who had taken it into his head to marry a very
tall woman, whom he had reduced to such perfect subjection, that he used
from time to time to evince his mastery by mounting a round table and
making the wife walk round it while he belabored her lustily with a
strap.

Johnny, having taken his resolve, made no circumbendibus in his
addresses; but one day, as he was alone in the company of the lady, by
name Lizzy Lorimer,--"Lizzy," said he, "I'll tell thee what I have been
thinking about. I think thou'd make me a very good wife."

"Well," replied Lizzy; "sure, isn't that extraordinary? I was just
thinking the very same thing."

"That's right! Well done, my wench,--now that's what I call hitting the
nail on the head, like a right sensible woman!" cried Johnny, fetching
her a slap on the shoulder, and laughing heartily. "That's doing the
thing now to some tune. I'm for none of your dilly-dally ways. I once
knew a young fellow that was desperately smitten by a young woman, and
though he could pluck up courage enough to go and see her, he couldn't
summon courage enough to speak out his mind when he got there; and so he
and the damsel sate opposite one another before the fire. She knew well
enough all the while--you're sharp enough, you women--what he was
after; and there they sate and sate, and at last he picked up a cinder
off the hearth, and looking very foolish, said, 'I've a good mind to
fling a cowk at thee!' At which the brave wench, in great contempt,
cried, 'I'll soon fling one at thee, if thou artn't off!' That's just as
thou'd ha' done, Lizzy, and as I shouldn't," said Johnny, gayly, and
laughing more heartily than before.

That was the sum and substance of Johnny Darbyshire's courtship. All the
world said the trouble would come afterwards; but if it did come, it was
not to Johnny. Never was chanticleer so crouse on his own dung-hill, as
Johnny Darbysh