At school Charles was quiet and studious. Though strong and well-built, he cared more for his studies than for games and liked natural history best of all. He became a great reader, enjoying especially poetry and heroic tales. After passing through the lower schools, young Kingsley entered Cambridge University. He was well-liked by his classmates and teachers, for he was always kind and cheerful. He proved himself a fine scholar and was graduated from Cambridge at the head of his class.

Kingsley now decided to be a clergyman, and so prepared himself for that honorable calling. He was made rector of the church at Eversley in Hampshire. The people of Eversley greatly admired and loved their talented young rector. He lived and worked among them for thirty-three years. "He could swing a flail with the threshers in the barn, turn his swath with the mowers in the meadow, pitch hay with the haymakers in the pasture. With the farmer he could discuss the rotation of crops; with the laborer his hedging and ditching; and in giving sympathy he gained power.

Soon after entering the ministry Kingsley married a sweetsouled woman. To the Kingsley home came three children. (You may find their names at the beginning of the "Greek Heroes, ," for this book was written for them.) The home life of this family was exceedingly happy. Kingsley was very fond of his children. "When his parish work was done, he would join them, bringing them some fresh treasure picked in his walk, a choice wild flower or fern, and sometimes a rare beetle, a lizard, or a field mouse; ever waking up their sense of wonder, calling out their powers of observation, and teaching them, without any sense of effort upon lessons, out of God's great green book."

With such a father and with such training as this, it is no wonder that Kingsley's little girl rushed into the breakfast room one morning, hand clasped tight and eyes shining; to

open her hand and cry: "Oh, father, look at this delightful worm!"

During the years at Eversley, Kingsley was becoming famous. He was a great lover of nature, but he loved men more. He became deeply interested in bettering the condition of the laboring-men of England. To that end he wrote several books pleading for a fuller and a happier life for these poor people. In his pulpit Kingsley argued the same cause, and people came from far and near to hear him. He believed that he loves God best who best loves his fellowmen.

Having risen to a wider acquaintance and greater influence, in 1860 Kingsley was made professor of modern history at Cambridge University. While engaged in this work he was appointed one of the instructors of the Prince of Wales, who later became King Edward VII. Kingsley was popular with the students at Cambridge, but he liked the work of a minister better than that of a teacher, so after nine years at Cambridge he returned to the ministry, and held high positions at Chester and at Westminster Abbey.

Kingsley worked so long and so faithfully without sufficient rest that his health finally gave way under the strain. He made a visit to the United States in 1874 to rest and regain his strength. In a letter to his wife, written from Cambridge, Massachusetts, he says, "Here is a little haven of rest, where we arrived last night. Longfellow came to dinner, and we dine with him tonight. Yesterday, in Boston, dear old Whittier called on me, and we had a most loving and like-minded talk about the other world. He is an old saint. This morning I have spent chiefly with Asa Gray and his plants, so that we are in good company."

After spending a little time in the eastern states and Canada, Kingsley came west to California. He made a visit to the wonderful Yosemite Valley and the Big Trees. While in San Francisco he took a bad cold, which soon developed into pleurisy. Seeking sunshine and drier air, he went at once.

to Colorado Springs near Denver. He was so delighted with the Colorado climate and scenery that he spent considerable time there.

Feeling well and strong at last, Kingsley grew eager to go home and get to work again. So bidding his friends in America good-bye, he returned to Eversley in August. With many duties pressing upon him, he soon overdid himself. His strength failed him again, and he passed away in January, 1875. Let us remember Charles Kingsley as author, naturalist. clergyman; and more than all these, as a true Christian gentleman who loved his neighbor as himself.

-Leroy E. Armstrong

Questions: Where and when was Charles Kingsley born? What occupation did Kingsley's father follow? For what did little Charles early show a liking? From whom did he get this taste? How was Kingsley different from most boys at school? From what university was Kingsley graduated? After graduation, what occupation did Kingsley choose? Name Kingsley's best-known poem. Explain how this poem came to be written. What reasons have you for thinking that Kingsley was fond of children? For what purpose did Kingsley write several books? What work besides the ministry did Kingsley follow for nine years? Who was one of his pupils during this time? Why did Kingsley make a visit to the United States in 1874? Name two American authors that he met while in this country. Where and when did he die? What caused his death? Give a quotation from Kingsley.

TO A LITTLE GIRL

E GOOD, sweet maid, and let who will be clever,

BE GOOD, Sweet mand, a

Do noble things, not dream them all day long;

And so make life, death, and the vast forever

One grand, sweet song!

-Charles Kingsley

ALICE BRAND

(This ballad is taken from The Lady of the Lake, Sir Walter Scott's most popular poem. The author was a warm-hearted, whole-souled Scotchman, who wrote many fine novels as well as several stirring poems. Ivanhoe, Quentin Durward, and The Talisman are books that will give you pleasure.)

M

ERRY it is in the good greenwood,

When the mavis and the merle are singing,
When the deer sweeps by, and the hounds are in cry,
And the hunter's horn is ringing.

"O Alice Brand, my native land

Is lost for love of you;

And we must hold by wood and wold,
As outlaws wont to do.

"O Alice, 'twas all for thy locks so bright,
And 'twas all for thine eyes so blue,
That on the night of our luckless flight,
Thy brother bold I slew.

"Now must I teach to hew the beech
The hand that held the glaive,°
For leaves to spread our lowly bed,
And stakes to fence our cave.

"And for vest° of pall, thy fingers small,

That wont on harp to stray,

A cloak must shear from the slaughter'd deer,
To keep the cold away.'

"O Richard! If my brother died,

'Twas but a fatal chance;

For darkling was the battle tried,

And fortune sped the lance.

"If pall and vair° no more I wear,
Nor thou the crimson sheen,

As warm, we'll say, is the russet grey,
As gay the forest-green.

"And, Richard, if our lot be hard.

And lost thy native land,

Still Alice has her own Richard,
And he his Alice Brand.”

II

'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood, So blithe Lady Alice is singing;

On the beech's pride, and oak's brown side, Lord Richard's axe is ringing.

Up spoke the moody Elfin King,
Who woned within the hill,—

Like wind in the porch of a ruin'd church,
His voice was ghostly shrill.

"Why sounds yon stroke on beech and oak, Our moonlight circle's screen?

Or who comes here to chase the deer,
Beloved of our Elfin Queen?

Or who may dare on wold to wear
The fairies' fatal green?

"Up, Urgan, up! to yon mortal hie,
For thou wert christen'd man;
For cross or sign thou wilt not fly,
For mutter'd word or ban.