CHAPTER IV. 

 CHARLES KINGSLEY IN THE SADDLE. 



|ITH him I have cast in my lot, to live and die, and 

 be buried by his side." 



So, sitting in the saddle on one of the beauti- 

 ful moorland eminences overlooking the North Hants parish 

 where he had cure of souls, and referring to the humblest 

 type of his parishioners, soliloquized Charles Kingsley. And 

 so has it befallen. The good Christian gentleman dwelt 

 among those dark-haired, ruddy Hampshire men for over 

 thirty years ; lived the life of the healthy-hearted in their 

 midst, knowing all their ways and wants, sympathizing with 

 them in their sorrows, rejoicing when they rejoiced; and 

 alas ! all too soon for them and for us, he has died in the 

 prime of his life, and was buried, even as he wished, by the 

 side of his own people. 



The death of such a man as Charles Kingsley demanded, 

 as it obtained, the notice accorded only to persons who have 

 left a name on the muster-roll of fame, and the written reviews 

 of his life dealt with his many-sided character in a manner 

 to show how soundly and generously the English critic can 



