Toryism; for he fully believes
in it, and acts up to his belief. A true English gentleman, and I
respect him."

"Yet, John, Norton Bury calls you a democrat."

"So I am, for I belong to the people. But I nevertheless uphold a true
aristocracy--the BEST MEN of the country,--do you remember our Greeks
of old? These ought to govern, and will govern, one day, whether their
patent of nobility be births and titles, or only honesty and brains."

Thus he talked on, and I liked to hear him, for talking was rare in his
busy life of constant action. I liked to observe how during these ten
years his mind had brooded over many things; how it had grown,
strengthened, and settled itself, enlarging both its vision and its
aspirations; as a man does, who, his heart at rest in a happy home, has
time and will to look out from thence into the troublous world outside,
ready to do his work there likewise. That John was able to do it--ay,
beyond most men--few would doubt who looked into his face; strong with
the strength of an intellect which owed all its development to himself
alone; calm with the wisdom which, if a man is ever to be wise, comes
to him after he has crossed the line of thirty years. In that face,
where day by day Time was writing its fit lessons--beautiful, because
they were so fit--I ceased to miss the boyish grace, and rejoiced in
the manhood present, in the old age that was to be.

It seemed almost too short a journey, when, putting his hand on the
mare's bridle--the creature loved him, and turned to lick his arm the
minute he came near--John stopped me to see the view from across
Kingswell churchyard.

"Look, what a broad valley, rich in woods, and meadow-land, and corn.
How quiet and blue lie the Welsh hills far away. It does one good to
look at them. Nay, it brings back a little bit of me which rarely
comes uppermost now, as it used to come long ago, when we read your
namesake, and Shakspeare, and that Anonymous Friend who has since made
such a noise in the world. I delight in him still. Think of a man of
business liking Coleridge."

"I don't see why he should not."

"Nor I. Well, my poetic tastes may come out more at Enderley. Or
perhaps when I am an old man, and have fought the good fight,
and--holloa, there! Matthew Hales, have they made you drunk already?"

The man--he was an old workman of ours--touched his hat, and tried to
walk steadily past "the master," who looked at once both stern and s