p before me--I can, easily, even
after more than fifty years.

Brown eyes, deep-sunken, with strongly-marked brows, a nose like most
other Saxon noses, nothing particular; lips well-shaped, lying one upon
the other, firm and close; a square, sharply outlined, resolute chin,
of that type which gives character and determination to the whole
physiognomy, and without which in the fairest features, as in the best
dispositions, one is always conscious of a certain want.

As I have stated, in person the lad was tall and strongly-built; and I,
poor puny wretch! so reverenced physical strength. Everything in him
seemed to indicate that which I had not: his muscular limbs, his
square, broad shoulders, his healthy cheek, though it was sharp and
thin--even to his crisp curls of bright thick hair.

Thus he stood, principal figure in a picture which is even yet as clear
to me as yesterday--the narrow, dirty alley leading out of the High
Street, yet showing a glimmer of green field at the further end; the
open house-doors on either side, through which came the drowsy burr of
many a stocking-loom, the prattle of children paddling in the gutter,
and sailing thereon a fleet of potato parings. In front the High
Street, with the mayor's house opposite, porticoed and grand: and
beyond, just where the rain-clouds were breaking, rose up out of a nest
of trees, the square tower of our ancient abbey--Norton Bury's boast
and pride. On it, from a break in the clouds, came a sudden stream of
light. The stranger-lad lifted up his head to look at it.

"The rain will be over soon," I said, but doubted if he heard me. What
could he be thinking of so intently?--a poor working lad, whom few
would have given credit for thinking at all.

I do not suppose my father cast a second glance or thought on the boy,
whom, from a sense of common justice, he had made take shelter beside
us. In truth, worthy man, he had no lack of matter to occupy his mind,
being sole architect of a long up-hill but now thriving trade. I saw,
by the hardening of his features, and the restless way in which he
poked his stick into the little water-pools, that he was longing to be
in his tan-yard close by.

He pulled out his great silver watch--the dread of our house, for it
was a watch which seemed to imbibe something of its master's character;
remorseless as justice or fate, it never erred a moment.

"Twenty-three minutes lost by this shower. Phineas, my son, how am I