"Thart of it ah! thart of it hundreds o' times; but some'ow cudden never bring mysel' to the scratch o' not seein' th' Beacon any more. I can just see it from 'ere, you know. But there's not so many like me, an' gettin' fewer every day." "Yes," murmured Felix, "that I believe." "'Tes a 'and-made piece o' goods the land! You has to be fond of it, same as of your missis and yer chillen.