father as having the same kind of genius for mechanical invention
as that of George Stephenson, and my father had come over now to
consult him about several improvements, as well as an offer of
partnership. It was a great pleasure to me to see the mutual
regard of these two men. Mr Holdsworth, young, handsome, keen,
well-dressed, an object of admiration to all the youth of Eltham;
my father, in his decent but unfashionable Sunday clothes, his
plain, sensible face full of hard lines, the marks of toil and
thought,--his hands, blackened beyond the power of soap and water
by years of labour in the foundry; speaking a strong Northern
dialect, while Mr Holdsworth had a long soft drawl in his voice,
as many of the Southerners have, and was reckoned in Eltham to
give himself airs.

Although most of my father's leisure time was occupied with
conversations about the business I have mentioned, he felt that
he ought not to leave Eltham without going to pay his respects to
the relations who had been so kind to his son. So he and I ran up
on an engine along the incomplete line as far as Heathbridge, and
went, by invitation, to spend a day at the farm.

It was odd and yet pleasant to me to perceive how these two men,
each having led up to this point such totally dissimilar lives,
seemed to come together by instinct, after one quiet straight
look into each other's faces. My father was a thin, wiry man of
five foot seven; the minister was a broad-shouldered,
fresh-coloured man of six foot one; they were neither of them
great talkers in general--perhaps the minister the most so--but
they spoke much to each other. My father went into the fields
with the minister; I think I see him now, with his hands behind