It professed to be from a person, calling herself Edmund's nurse. Yet it gave him no name but that of the "young masther; or, be rights, the young lord, sure; only he was too young, the crathur, to be calling him any thing, barring the misthress's child." In like manner, it called Edmund's father "the lord," and his mother "the lady," but did not mention the title of the family. The writer asserted, that having laid the child down for a moment, on the grass of the lawn, at a time when the family were from home, it was stolen by a strolling beggar, for the sake of the fine clothes it had on; for, that the "lord and the lady" were, that very day, expected at the castle. That afraid of blame, she had substituted her own infant. That it had been received without suspicion by the parents, who, having been "mostly in London town and other foreign parts," had seen but little of their boy. It then went on as follows:--"A little while after, sure, I seen the poor child, with hardly a tack on him, of a winter's day, in the arms of the divil's own wife, at laste, if it was'nt the divil himself, the strolling woman, I mane, in the big town, hard by. I went up to her, and abused her all to nothing, and offered to take the child from her. And glad enough he was, the crathur, to see me, and stretched out his poor arms to come to me. But the woman, she hits him a thump, and houlds down both his little hands with one of her great big fists, and turns to me, and says, smelling strong wid spirits all the while, (but for a drunkard as she was, she had cunning enough left,) and she says, spakin' low, and winking her eye, like, 'And whose young master is that, dressed up at the castle, yonder?' says she. 'And it's my boy, to be sure,' says I, 'and small blame to me, when you didn't lave me the right one.' 'And are you going to send the right one there now, if you get him?' says she. 'And what's that to you?' says I. And with that, she gives a whistle like, and snaps her fingers afore my face, and thrusts her tongue in her cheek, and begins jogging off. 'And' says I, following of her, 'and what do you want o' the child?' says I; 'and haven't you got the clothes? and can't yee be satisfied? I'm not going, sure, to ax them of yee, and can't yee give me the child! when it's I that 'ill kape him warm, any how, and fade him well too; I that gave him the strame o' life from my own breast,' says I; 'and what 'ud I be grudging of him afther that?' says I. 'Then nothing at all sure, but jist what belongs to him!' says she, 'But the divil a bit of him you'll get, any how; for there's not a day since I've carried him, that I haven't got the price of a dram, at laste, by the pitiful face of him!' says she. 'And for that mather,' says she, 'if any one takes him to the castle,' says she, 'it'll be myself that'll do it,' says she, 'and git the reward too.' 'You the reward!' says I; 'is it for stailing him? It's the gaol's the reward you'll get, my madam!' says I. 'It's