I was the only guest at the inn, and instead of ordering a chop, as any one but an American would have done, I foolishly said I should like "dinner." Therefore I was served with soup--enough for a bath--a large fish, and a roast chicken, followed by a huge tart! When I saw the bill I remembered Ruth's prophecy that we should save money by stopping at small inns! There was enough left to feed the inn-keeper's family for a week. Perhaps it did! After dinner I strolled to the gates of "Hatfield House" and looked up the long avenue, but catching only a glimpse of the hall. There came to my mind certain articles by Godkin, in the _Nation_, in which he had spoken with biting sarcasm of Lord Salisbury, and then I recalled what A.V.G. Allen used to say, that "Salisbury was the typical Englishman." You know what a radical Allen was in theology; yet he was a Tory in English politics. From Salisbury the mind naturally rebounded to Gladstone, the political Liberal but the ecclesiastical reactionary. Such musings led me to ask myself if nature did not arrange our temperaments as a clock-maker does the pendulum of a grandfather clock, of metals with different expansive qualities, lest a man be radical or conservative _à outrance_? Turning such thoughts over in my mind in that dreamy fashion which is so delightful because it calls for no action, I turned back to the inn, "and so to bed." Next morning the weather was apparently "set fair," and I drove out of the stable-yard in good spirits. Mile after mile I drove sedately on, gaining confidence with each hour. When I had inquired of the dreary ostler what road to take to Yorkshire, he had replied, in surprise, "The north road. There ben't no other, so you can't miss it." Little he knew what I am capable of!