You're my son,--more to me nor any son.

I've put away money, only for you to spend.

When I was a hired-out shepherd in a solitary hut, not seeing no faces but faces of sheep till I half forgot wot men's and women's faces wos like, I see yourn.

I drops my knife many a time in that hut when I was a-eating my dinner or my supper, and I says, 'Here's the boy again, a looking at me whiles I eats and drinks!' I see you there a many times, as plain as ever I see you on them misty marshes.

'Lord strike me dead!' I says each time,--and I goes out in the air to say it under the open heavens,--'but wot, if I gets liberty and money, I'll make that boy a gentleman!' And I done it.