Yes, Deborah, we are now growing old; but the evening of our life is likely to be happy.

We are descended from ancestors that knew no stain, and we shall leave a good and virtuous race of children behind us.

While we live they will be our support and our pleasure here, and when we die they will transmit our honour untainted to posterity.

Come, my son, we wait for a song: let us have a chorus.

But where is my darling Olivia?
That little cherub's voice is always sweetest in the concert.'-- Just as I spoke Dick came running in.