One other thing he told me that I am sure will interest you. He said that in the dark days of the cotton famine, during our Civil War, he could remember as a little boy seeing his father go, with many others, to receive the food distributed to the poor. "That was the only time any of my name received anything from the rates, and it was bitter hard for father. There were men who came up from Liverpool and told us that if the working men of Lancashire would send a deputation to Parliament, the war would be stopped, and we could get cotton to open the mills. But my father was one of those who said that it was the cause of free labor you were fighting for, and that if the men would hold on a bit, God would come to our help. He learned that, I now know, from John Bright. And so the men held out. But it was hard." Isn't that fine? And doesn't it make Lord John Russell and Gladstone look cheap? By some ill chance Rose and I got separated from the rest of the party, and the van drove off without us. When Rose learned this, she thought it a huge joke, and said we should have to walk. I said: "Not on your life!" This familiar saying filled her with delight, and she cried: "Oh, I say, that is a jolly saying; I must tell that to Dick, and he can take it back to school!" "That is all very well," said I, "but what is going to take us back to home?" She suggested a "fly." I solemnly remarked that I did not believe there was a fly big enough to carry us both. She looked at me for a moment in astonishment and then cried: "Why, I believe you are thinking of an _insect_!" I asked what else one could think of. She pondered this a moment and then said she believed I was making game of her. Nothing, I assured her, was farther from my thoughts. "Well," she said, "if you are sure you don't know, I will tell you; a fly is something that a horse pulls." I asked if it was a cart. But apparently she had given me up as hopeless, and taking me by the hand, led me to a livery-stable, where the proprietor produced a fly and announced that the price would be ten shillings, and asked if he should "put it down" to the vicar. Rose looked much alarmed at this, and was proportionately relieved when I paid the amount. There was silence for a little space after we started, and then Rose said, as if to herself: "Daddy would have walked." "Yes," I replied, "but you must remember he is over six feet tall, and his stride is about three-foot-three, whereas I step only about two-foot-six; so you can calculate how much longer it would take me to walk seven miles than it would him." "Don't you hate arithmetic?" she exclaimed. I admitted that I was not fond of it.