Clodpole

[…]this letter, being so excellently ignorant, will breed no terror in the youth: he will find it comes from a clodpole.

‘Show the dullest clodpole,’ says my invaluable German friend, ‘show the haughtiest feather-head, that a soul higher than himself is here; were his knees stiffened into brass, he must down and worship.’

There lay Tom; hobnail Tom! a bacon-munching, reckless, beer-swilling animal! and yet a man; a dear brave human heart notwithstanding; capable of devotion and unselfishness. The boy's better spirit was touched, and it kindled his imagination to realize the abject figure of poor clodpole Tom, and surround it with a halo of mournful light.

“Are you sure it was Sam?” he asked. “I know the clodpole,” nodded Catweazle.