Henry Kingsley 



that he could paint her charms on canvas, and could 

 turn to memories of her and give scenes he had 

 seen in words that once heard were never forgotten. 

 Who that heard him tell how the purple autumn 

 crocuses bloomed among the dead men and horses 

 of the battle-fields of Alsace and Lorraine ever forgot 

 it, or forgot the black snakes in the black night in 

 Australia — snakes that you did not see, but heard. 

 He did not seem capable of writing these things 

 down except in his earlier books,^ but he felt them 

 vividly enough. Unfortunately, the wretched health 

 which descended on him while still a young man, 

 and which led to his premature death, kept him 

 away from following Nature, but he loved her 

 throughout his life. George Kingsley, however, 

 loved Nature so utterly that life without her 

 unspoiled companionship was intolerable to him. 

 Always before him there was gleaming ' that 

 untravelled world whose margin fades for ever and 

 for ever ' ; and always ' his heart the purpose held 

 to sail beyond the sunset and the baths of all the 

 Western stars.' 



To gain but half of what his heart desired to 

 gain, George Kingsley gave away all hope of fortune 

 or renown, and deemed that by that bargain he had 

 made himself the winner in the game of life. 



Taken all in all, George was certainly the happiest 

 of the three brothers. Many a time Charles 



^ See ' Eyre, the South Australian Explorer,' by H. Kingsley, 

 Macmillm)! s Magazine, November and December 1865. 



