The morning call., 1893-01-15
CHARLES KINGSLEY.
WRITTEN FOR THE MORNING CALL.

little fresh" Let the truth be frankly
told. One day after dinner Canon Kiuas-
ley TOOK me out in the Deans yard hack OF
Inc aoDey 10 show me the lurid and lofty
virginia creepers on the high. warm south
wall, which Raleigh had brought home and
Queen Elizabeth. with her own hand, had
planted there. Now don't know what I
had said or done; only / know had SAID or
done something silly; it may be had been
saying or doing something all the time that
was wrong and foolish. Anyhow he sud-
denly turned to me and he suffered and
9tormed out
w ben was young man like You and
had a little success it turned my head and
was foo foo-fool."
"No, no." ! protested, mo, nor
II was foo too-f00l, | say, big foo-foo-
fool. mighty big foo-foo-fool; but was
never half so big foo foo-fool as you are"
OF course / deserved it, and it did me
good, but | was furious at the time, and in
my rage ran and told Mark Twain and
Charley Stoddard, then In London, They
were TO dine there next day. Well, Mark
Twain never mentioned what took place az
that dinner to me, although had intro
duced him in London. but Charley Stoddard
told me that he was wild at a remark Of
the Canon's, and made at his own table,
too. 1t seems that Kingsley, who was
Clemens how many lectures gentleman
ought to deliver in month in America.
We'll" drawled Mark, 81 can deliver az
many lectures 10 month as there's even
iDgs in a month"
But l am ge-ge-gentleman, you know.
and no ge-ge-genteman can do that much.
you know, replied Kingsley.
Others choose the gentle walks of life In
letters: this man chose to take the hard
and rude ways. Others sung 10 the sum-
mer winds, the soft zephyr. but he chose to
celebrate the bleak and battling north
easter.
Welcome. wild northeastern
Shame 1t Is 10 see
Odes TO every zephyr:
Ne'er a thee.
Welcome black northeastern
O'er the German foam,
Ger the Daash moOriaEds,
From thy frozen home.
Tired We are of summer,
Tired OF gaudy glare,
Showers soft and steaming,
Hot and GREATNESS air;
Tired OF Iistess dreaming
Through the lazy day;
Joyial wind OF winter,
Turn US out to play
Here is bit more of him-hs great faith
the light by which he and Browning and
their like lived and died.
THE WORLDS AGE.
Who will say the world Is dying?
Who Will say our prime IS Iast?
Sparks from heaven, within us lying
FLASH, and will flash till the last.
Fools! who fancy Christ mistaken;
Man tool TO buy and sell;
Earth failure. God forsaken,
Anteroom OF hell.
Still the race OF hero spirits
Pass the lamp from hand TO hand;
Age from age the word inherlts-
Wife ana child and Fatherand."'
Still the youthful hunter gathers
Fiery Joy from void and wood;
He Will dare as dared his fathers,
Give him cause good.
While slave bewals his letters;
While an orphan pleads I'm vain:
While an infant lsps his letters
Heir OF all the ages gain;
While lip grows riDe for kissing;
While moan from man is wrnng;
Know, by every want and blessing,
That the world is young.
Canon Kingsley wrote, talked, lived for
the good he could do the world.
For the right that needs assistance,
For the wrong that needs resistance,
For the glory in the distance
And the good that we do.
l have seen this quotation given as mine.
don't know who wrote the lines entirely,
once heard them, or something like them.
from his lips when in the pulpit (where.
by the way, ne never stuttered) and think
he wrote them, as well as the lines at the
head of this sketch, though / find nothing
Of the sort in his books.
JOAQUIN MILLER.