I've had enough of law in paying for Howel, and nothing come of it.

But you may be writing down a little.

Here, in that chest, there's pen, ink and paper; tak' you my keys, and open you it.' Griffith Jenkins took from under his pillow a bunch of keys, and fumbling amongst them, gave one to Rowland, with which he opened the chest, and procured the necessary writing apparatus.
'Give you me my keys--quick, quick!' cried the old man, again hiding them somewhere in his bed.' At his dictation, Rowland wrote a list of the different moneys he possessed in various places, and was utterly astonished to find that he had soon written down between sixty and seventy thousand pounds.
Everybody knew that Griffith Jenkins was rich, but nobody had guessed how rich he was.
'Now say, "I give and bequeath to my wife, 'Lizbeth Jenkins, ten thousand pound out of the aforesaid mortgage on Jacob Davies Llansadwn's property."' 'Is that all, Uncle Griff ?' 'Yes, I sha'n't say no more.' 'And the box of gold ?' Again the miser grasped Rowland's hand, and fixed his keen eyes on his face.
'I 'ont be dying yet, and I 'ont be putting that down to-night.

Tell you your father what there is, without the box, and without more mortgages and loans; but don't you be talking to anybody about it.

Mind you, not to Howel nor to 'Lizbeth: promise me.' Rowland promised.
The miser fell back exhausted.
'And now Uncle Griff, may I pray for you?
Only think how soon you may be called to your account, to say exactly how you have employed your time, and the talents given--' 'I have done plenty--plenty--all out at interest, at five, six, even ten per cent.; none wrapped up in a napkin.