But in spite of all this, I was sad in my heart to stop behind, even in so grand a place, when my father and mother were gone back home. For I thought of all the corners that I knew so well, and the places in the cinders, where the wind blew warm, and the holes where you might roast a big potato, (if you watched the proper time for clinkering,) and the grassy remainders of great green fields, where the lark, after warbling in the sky so long, shut both his wings, and shot down in silence, to run about, and feel the land, where he felt that he had been an egg. And then I thought of several fellows, by no means grand in trousers, or in manners--such as Joe Grimes, the blacksmith's boy, and Charley Turps, son of the carpenter--who could enter into my views, and let me into theirs, without a bit of language wasted, and who had forgiven me by this time, for being what they called a "Latin Tea-kettle;" and of whom, by this time, there could not be one, without a long tale of his own to unfold, and a long one of mine to feel for. Moreover, I am not ashamed to own--for the true shame ought to be upon the other side--that fat Polly Windsor had promised now, for more than five years, to be my bride; and I wanted to amaze her with a true account of the things I saw the girls do down here. And as I thought of all these delights, I did not care twopence to be a great man, if my greatness would rob me of half of them. But before going further, I am bound to stop, and do justice to a man, who was not so very great--any more than I shall ever be--but that which is tenfold rarer now, a truthful, honest, and courageous man. It was not the loss of two Sunday hats, which changed my father's politics, but the running away of the man who stole them, without leaving his name in the lining. My father began to look beneath the surface, having taken all he heard on trust, till now; and as soon as he hit upon facts, he found that he must not find fault with this man, for running. For now, he was enabled to perceive that the essence of the Liberal is--to run. To run with the current of opinion first, judging from the froth which way it goes; and to run away from his own principles next, because they are bad, while his conscience still is good; to run, with all speed, from the voice of reason; and above all to put his best foot foremost, in running for his pocket from the enemies of England. Having set his mind, and heart, against that style of going, my father discovered that his own life grew more honest, and open, in little dealings, from a firmer standard in larger ones. And though he was here, to some extent, with a view to smooth the way for a Government contract, and test the true value of Billy Barlow's tricks; the sterling weight of his principles never fell into the scale of his interests.