It was not a sight to cause depression in the hungry human mind; neither could that effect be got from a very well-browned backstone cake; which mother allowed me to smell, before she put it back, to crisp a bit. Oh, if she had only said, "My dear boy, put your belt on," what a difference it would have made! But she never thought of it, any more than I did; and I always tried not to think of it. With all these things to set me up, and a holiday and a half to come, out of the two ensuing days--for this was Friday afternoon--I set off, rather at a dance than walk, with my arms thrown up, and lungs expanded; and my broad-brimmed Leghorn giving flips at the wind, like a pigeon's wing; and the tucks, and gathers, and quilted flounces of my blouse lifting, and filling in the air, like clouds; and scarcely so much as a thread of my curls--as mother was fond of expressing it--that did not glisten in the sun, and hover like a crown of golden gossamer. Instead of opening the gate, I flew over it, and could scarcely keep between the walls below, and I heard mother calling, "Oh, Tommy, dear Tommy, come back for your belt." And I tried to do it; but the breeze was behind me, and I must go on. Then, where the old weeping plane-tree stands, at the bottom of our garden and enjoys the smoke, there was father on the bench, with his back against the trunk, and his red plush waistcoat on, and a long "churchwarden" in his mouth, and his favourite pewter waiting for the stout, and his face so bright at seeing me, that I called out, "Father is quite well again! As well as he ever was, in all his life!" And he said--"Yes, Tommy, thank the Lord, I am. I've been thinking of you all day, my boy. Come, and give me a kiss. Why, how wonderful you look!" For the joy was more than I could bear; and instead of being able to go to him, I was lifted in a moment, from the surface of the earth, quicker than I ever had gone up before. Now, the faster I go up, the faster I go round,--this seems to be a law of my ascents--yet I do not remember to have felt much fear; and indeed there was little to be afraid of, unless it was a fall into our own chimneystacks. And in my vile stupidity, I even called down-- "Now, father, now will you believe at last?" Alas, that my very last words to him should have been of low, and unfilial triumph! As I tried to look down at him, through the tree, to show him how comfortable I was up there, I saw him rush out, with his pipe in one hand, from the bower of the drooping branches; and he stood, with his legs wide apart, and his hat off, and threw down his pipe, and rubbed his eyes with both hands, and then lifted them up, and cried-- "The Lord forgive me--that He hath made a son of mine to fly!"