“Will you come in, Sir John. Full twenty highwaymen blithe and bold, Rattled their chains in that dungeon old; Of all that number there 'scaped not one Who carved his name on the Newgate Stone. They were things I had meant very much to talk to you about, so that I went home vexed and disappointed, and only relieved myself a little by writing a few verses. A big breakfast is healthier anyway, so they say. But the father, to go his way forever alone! The iron in the man!—the iron in this child of his! Wanting a little love, a caress now and then. "I'm sure little Jack has but one friend beside myself, in the world, and that's more than I would have ventured to say for him yesterday.
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