It was not in my nature, to be put down, without having something to say for it. My mind was of ordinary substance, and perhaps rather heavy; to balance the body, as well as to keep the heart company, at times when the pair were in trouble together. But my body was not a mere somebody, neither an anybody, nor a common nobody; but a substance, in some wise remarkable, and surely as distinguished as that of the great knuckle-duster. He had won fame, to his own satisfaction; by deeds more surprising to the public ear, but far less so to the public eye, than those of which I was capable. Now, which is more potent, the ear, or the eye? Which throws the quickest flash into the brain, and fills it with action the longest? Even before we have learned enough of speech, to be certain that all men are liars, how slowly creep in, at the sides of the head, the things that leap in, at the front of it! "Hot are the stings of the eye, but cold the pains of the ear," says an ancient; pithier for once than Horace. This being so, what should prevent me, from attaining a hotter fame than even Mr. Panclast's? He could beat his drum upon the ear alone, and sound his own trumpet into waxy cells; but I could fly straight into the retina of the brain, and block the whole traffic of the optic nerve. "I will cultivate the lofty gifts of nature," I exclaimed, when everybody else was gone to bed; "for the sake of my country, I am bound to do it. Sir Roland was right, and the great Professor wrong. Why did he say to me--'Fly no more; aerial Tommy, fly no more'? Why, simply because he is a Rad, and foresees confusion to the Rad race, in my powers when developed. So far as my own convictions go, there is scarcely the seed of a fig, between a Rad, and a Tory, when they are let alone. But the difference is, that a Rad can be lashed up, like a half-broken horse, into any fit of kicking, and cares not a rap, what he smashes in his rage. But a Tory is far less impetuous; he has a much stronger perception of the rights of others, and especially of his country's claim upon him. Such are the men, who are needed now. Panclast has an extraordinary gift of lashing up quiet folk, to kick against their neighbours, and of running round the corner, when his own legs are in jeopardy. However, he is the master of the yard for the present, in virtue of his powers of swearing, Roly says--but there must be a great deal more than that."