family, aren't they, wifelkin? I never heard more delicate prayers in
all my life! Why, they beat the rubricals hollow!--and here comes my son
Jasper. I say, Jasper, here's a young sap-engro that can read, and is
more fly than yourself. Shake hands with him; I wish ye to be two
brothers.'

With a swift but stealthy pace Jasper came towards us from the farther
part of the lane; on reaching the tent he stood still, and looked fixedly
upon me as I sat upon the stool; I looked fixedly upon him. A queer look
had Jasper; he was a lad of some twelve or thirteen years, with long
arms, unlike the singular being who called himself his father; his
complexion was ruddy, but his face was seamed, though it did not bear the
peculiar scar which disfigured the countenance of the other; nor, though
roguish enough, a certain evil expression which that of the other bore,
and which the face of the woman possessed in a yet more remarkable
degree. For the rest, he wore drab breeches, with certain strings at the
knee, a rather gay waistcoat, and tolerably white shirt; under his arm he
bore a mighty whip of whalebone with a brass knob, and upon his head was
a hat without either top or brim.

'There, Jasper! shake hands with the sap-engro.'

'Can he box, father?' said Jasper, surveying me rather contemptuously. 'I
should think not, he looks so puny and small.'

'Hold your peace, fool!' said the man; 'he can do more than that--I tell
you he's fly: he carries a sap about, which would sting a ninny like you
to dead.'

'What, a sap-engro!' said the boy, with a singular whine, and, stooping