MEMOIR. xxvil 



Surely, no man of books — and such he was — ever less 

 'favoured' a bookworm. 'I am a man, and count nothing 

 human strange to me' would win applause from him, as the 

 words in Terence did from the gallery of Augustine's day. 

 Whether or no he had read the noble Anti-gnosticus of R. C. 

 Trench, I cannot say, but it spoke his inmost thoughts : — 



For I was thankful now, and not alone 



That I had been brought under the blue sky, 



With winds of heaven to blow upon my cheeks. 



And flowers of earth to smile about my feet, 



And birds of air to sing within my ears — 



Though that were something, something to exchange 



Continuous study in a lonely room 



For the sweet face of nature, sights and sounds 



Of earth and air, restoring influences 



Of power to cheer; yet not for this alone. 



Nor for this chiefly; but that thus I was 



Compelled, as by a gentle violence. 



Not in the pages of dead books alone. 



Nor merely in the fair page nature shews. 



But in the living page of human life. 



To look and learn — not merely left to spin 



Fine webs and woofs around me like the worm, 



Till in my own coil I had hid myself, 



And quite shut out the light of common day, 



And common air by which men breathe and live. 



Like Samuel Johnson and Legh Richmond, he regarded 

 lona with peculiar reverence. In its ruins he hailed a rampart 

 against Vatican pride, a keepsake from the days when Ireland 

 (the last Western church, — if I may steal a shaft from Lord 

 Plunket's quiver, — to bow the neck to Rome) was indeed the 

 Mother of Saints. Nor did he despair of the return of the 

 Green Isle to that high estate. 



One who knew him well, Dr. H. C. G. Moule, has darted 

 (Record, 9 Aug. 1895) some glances into his friend's inner life. 

 Of the three mottos there printed Bishop Racket's ' Serve God, 

 and be cheerful' (Johnson's 'Serviendum et laetandum'), inspired 

 by the Jubilate and by Ps. ii 11, bespeaks the spirit which 

 bound Babington's days, from infancy to hoary hairs, ' each to 

 «ach in natural piety.' Even when consciousness had well-nigh 

 fled, he breathed a faint ' yes,' when in the hymn ' I heard the 

 voice of Jesus say,' (one of those sung in chapel at his funeral), 

 he caught the words ' And He has made me glad.' 



