human
Master Teddy be taken, and us useless old sticks be left. I taught 'un to set night lines. He'd a tang o' the poacher, he had, but allers ready to give away what trout he catched out o' old Captain's water. Bold as brass, too, wi' rich or poor. And a good fighter. He fit 'No Account Harry' back o' village pound, and licked 'un, too, a boy bigger'n older'n he. A pleasant word for all, and fair bustin' wi' fun and kindness. I tell 'ee this, I be so sorrowful as if I'd lost a son, but there's rejoicing where he be gone. I can see Saint Peter a-openin' wide the gate to let 'un in.