📔 Sylvia's Lovers

She had been farm-servant to my mother's brother--James Hepburn, thy great-uncle as was; she were a poor, friendless wench, a parish 'prentice, but honest and gaum-like, till a lad, as nobody knowed, come o'er the hills one sheep-shearing fra' Whitehaven; [...]

But he's lying i' such dree poverty,—and niver a friend to go near him,—niver a person to speak a kind word t' him.

To be sure, t' winter's been a dree season, and thou'rt, maybe, in the right on't to make a late start.