commenced his Sunday evening lectures to the working classes, which he continued for the remainder of his life. After his death appeared his Layman's Legacy in Prose and Verse (1877). BEATEN! BEATEN ! Tell me now, my saddened soul! Slacked the pace or missed the way. Far beyond that sinking sun Swells a brighter, happier shore; Hark! He bids thee try once more. REG, WILLIAM RATHBONE, an English essay ist; born at Manchester in 1809; died at Wimbledon, November 15, 1881. He was a frequent contributor, upon social topics, to periodicals. His principal books are: Investments for Working Classes (1852); Political Problems for Our Age and Country (1870); The Enigmas of Life (1872); Essays on Political and Social Science, and Creed of Christendom (1873); Rocks Ahead, or the Warnings of Cassandra (1874); and Mistaken Aims and Attainable Ideals of the Working Classes (1876). Leslie Stephen's National Biography says "It was Greg's special function to discourage unreasonable expectations from political or even social reforms, and in general to caution democracy against the abuse of its power. His apprehensions may sometimes appear visionary, and sometimes exaggerated, but are in general the previsions of a far-seeing man, acute in observing the tendencies of the age." HUMAN DEVELOPMENT. Two glorious futures lie before us: the progress of the race here, the progress of the man hereafter. He appears to have reached his perfection centuries ago. Men lived then whom we have never yet been able to surpass, rarely even to equal. Our knowledge has, of course, gone on increasing, for that is a material capable of indefinite accumulation. But for power, for the highest reach and range of mental and spiritual capacity in every line, the lapse of two or three thousand years has shown no sign of increase or improvement. What sculptor has surpassed Phidias? What poet has transcended Eschylus, Homer, or the author of the Book of Job? What devout aspirant has soared higher than David or Isaiah? What statesman have modern times produced mightier or grander than Pericles? What patriot martyr truer or nobler than Socrates? Wherein, save in mere acquirements, was Bacon superior to Plato? or Newton to Thales or Pythagoras? Early in history God gave to the human race the types and patterns to imitate and approach, but never to transcend. Here, we see clearly intimated to us our appointed work- namely, to raise the masses to the true standard of harmonious human virtue and capacity; not to strive ourselves to overleap that standard. The philanthropists, in the measure of their wisdom and their purity of zeal, are the real fellow-workmen of the Most High. This principle may give us the clue to many dispensations which at first seem dark and grievous, to the grand scale and the distracting slowness of nature's operations; to her merciless inconsideration for the individual when the interests of the race are in question: "So careful of the types she seems, Noble souls are sacrificed to ignoble masses; the good champion often falls, the wrong competitor often wins: but the great car of humanity moves forward by those very steps which revolt our sympathies and crush our hopes.- Enigmas of Life. G ment. REVILLE, FULKE, LORD BROOKE, an English statesman and poet; born at Beauchamp Court, Warwickshire, in 1554; died September 30, 1628. He studied at Cambridge and Oxford, was knighted, and served for several years in ParliaIn 1615 he was made Under Treasurer and Chancellor of the Exchequer, and in 1620 was created Baron Brooke. He wrote two tragedies, and several other works in prose and verse, among which are: The Life of the Renowned Sir Philip Sidney; A Treatise of Religion, in verse; A Treatise of Human Learning, in fifteen stanzas; and A Treatise of Warres, in sixty-eight stanzas. A work, The Five Years of King James, which bears his name, is probably spurious. REALITY OF A TRUE RELIGION. For sure in all kinds of hypocrisy No bodies yet are found of constant being; No uniform, no stable mystery, No inward nature, but an outward seeming; No solid truth, no virtue, holiness, But types of these, which time makes more or less. But as there lives a true God in heaven So is there true Religion here on earth: By nature? No, by grace; not got, but given; Such as we are to Him, to us is He; Divine the author and the matter be Where goodness must be wrought in flesh and blood: Religion stands, not in corrupted things, ON THE DEATH OF PHILIP SIDNEY. Silence augmenteth grief, writing increaseth rage, Stalled are my thoughts, which loved and lost the wonder of our age; Yet quickened now with fire, though dead with frost ere now, Enraged I write I know not what: dead, quick, I know not how. Hard-hearted minds relent, and Rigor's tears abound, And Envy strangely rues his end in whom no fault she found; Knowledge his light hath fost, Valor hath slain her knight: Sidney is dead, dead is my friend, dead is the world's delight. Farewell, to you, my hopes, my wonted waking dreams! Farewell, sometimes enjoyed joy, eclipsèd are thy beams! Farewell, self-pleasing thoughts which quietness brings forth! And farewell, friendship's sacred league, uniting minds of worth! And farewell, merry heart, the gift of guileless minds, And all sports which, for life's restore, variety assigns! Let all that sweet is, void! In me no mirth may dwell! Philip, the cause of all this woe, my life's content, fare well! |