Years before you were born I had a son.

Oh! how can I speak of him ?--he seemed to be more beautiful than any other child--he had ways--he had looks--Primrose, I can't go on, you must ask Hannah to tell you what my boy was like.

I had him for five years, then I lost him; he did not die--he was stolen from me.

Can you wonder now that your mother sometimes looks sad, and that even you and Jasmine and Daisy fail now and then to make me smile?
"My bonny boy was stolen.

I never saw him dead; I never could go to his grave to put flowers there--twenty years ago now he was taken from me, and I have had neither trace nor tidings of him.
"Hannah will tell you particulars, Primrose, for I cannot.