us; for its result on ordinary minds, and on the common run of students, is less satisfactory still; they leave their place of education simply dissipated and relaxed by the multiplicity of subjects which they have never really mastered, and so shallow as not even to know their shallowness. How much better, I [1140 say, is it for the active and thoughtful intellect, where such is to be found, to eschew the college and the university altogether, than to submit to a drudgery so ignoble, a mockery so contumelious! How much more profitable for the independent mind, after the mere rudiments of education, to range through a library at random, taking down books as they meet him, and pursuing the [1150 trains of thought which his mother wit suggests! How much healthier to wander into the fields, and there with the exiled prince to find "tongues in the trees, books in the running brooks"! How much more genuine an education is that of the poor boy in the poem-a poem, whether in conception or in execution, one of the most touching in our language-who, not in the wide world, but ranging day by day [1160 around his widowed mother's home, "a dexterous gleaner" in a narrow field, and with only such slender outfit

"As the village school and books a few Supplied,"

contrived from the beach, and the quay, and the fisher's boat, and the inn's fireside, and the tradesman's shop, and the shepherd's walk, and the smuggler's hut, and the mossy moor, and the scream- [1170 ing gulls, and the restless waves, to fashion for himself a philosophy and a poetry of his own!

But in a large subject, I am exceeding my necessary limits. Gentlemen, I must conclude abruptly; and postpone any summing up of my argument, should that be necessary, to another day.

From the APOLOGIA PRO VITA SUA

KINGSLEY AND NEWMAN

Mr. Kingsley begins then by exclaiming, "O the chicanery, the wholesale

fraud, the vile hypocrisy, the consciencekilling tyranny of Rome! We have not far to seek for an evidence of it! There's Father Newman, to wit: one living specimen is worth a hundred dead ones. He, a priest, writing of priests, tells us that lying is never any harm."

I interpose: "You are taking a most [10 extraordinary liberty with my name. If I have said this, tell me when and where."

Mr. Kingsley replies: "You said it, Reverend Sir, in a sermon which you preached, when a Protestant, as Vicar of St. Mary's, and published in 1844; and I could read you a very salutary lecture on the effects which that sermon had at the time on my own opinion of you." [20 I make answer: "Oh .. . . Not, it seems, as a priest speaking of priests; but let us have the passage."

Mr. Kingsley relaxes: "Do you know, I like your tone. From your tone, I rejoice, greatly rejoice, to be able to believe that you did not mean what you said."

I rejoin: "Mean it! I maintain I never said it, whether as a Protestant or as a Catholic." [30

Mr. Kingsley replies: "I waive that point."

I object: "Is it possible? What? waive the main question! I either said it or I didn't. You have made a monstrous charge against me: direct, distinct, public. You are bound to prove it as directly, as distinctly, as publicly; or to own you can't!"

"Well," says Mr. Kingsley, "if you [40 are quite sure you did not say it, I'll take your word for it; I really will."

My word! I am dumb. Somehow I thought that it was my word that happened to be on trial. The word of a Professor of lying, that he does not lie!

But Mr. Kinglsey reassures me: "We are both gentlemen," he says: "I have done as much as one English gentle- [50 man can expect from another."

I begin to see: he thought me a gentleman at the very time that he said I taught lying on system. After all, it is not I, but Mr. Kingsley who did not mean what he said.

Within whose secret growth the Dove

Is sometimes felt to be,

She gazed and listened and then said, Less sad of speech than mild,

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The light thrilled towards her, filled With angels in strong level flight. Her eyes prayed, and she smiled.