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Updated: June 13, 2025
My name-son, a bright and blue-eyed rogue, with flaxen hair, screams and laughs like an April morning; and the baby is that species of dough which is called a fine baby. I care not for children till they care a little for me. April 11. Made calls, walked myself tired; saw Rogers, Sharp, Sotheby, and other old friends. April 12. Dinner at home; a little party of Sophia's in the evening.
Oakley no sooner heard these words pronounced, than he fell upon his knees, and seizing the knight's hand, kissed it eagerly, crying, "God for ever bless your honour, I am your name-son, sure enough but what of that? I can earn my bread without being beholden to any man." When the knight raised him up, he turned to the woman of the house, saying, "I want to see mother.
But it is with the name-son and great-grandson of this sturdy old saint that we have chiefly to do to-night. And I may say of him, to begin with, that he was altogether worthy to inherit and to hand on the tradition of family grace and truth that had begun so early and so conspicuously with the head of the Earlston house.
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