Say 'father.' We never called him papa; and if one of my brothers had addressed him as 'governor,' as boys do now, I really think he'd have him cut off with a shilling.
He used to gallop Rebecca over the neighbouring Dumpling Downs, or into the county town, which, if you please, we shall call Chatteris, spouting his own poems, and filled with quite a Byronic afflatus as he thought.
I did not think to see them once again, / For what could bring into an old woman's dream / Canova's immarcescible marble lovers?
Beneath them my swarthy and hardy peasants are plodding up the hill asweat and athirst.
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