352 THE EULOGY OF RICHARD JEFFERIES. 



last time. The busy hand which has written so 

 much will write no more. He can no longer 

 dictate. His very feebleness will soon be past, 

 and he will be at rest, whether in the uncon- 

 scious clay- cold rest of the dark grave, or in that 

 better life of the Fuller Soul of which he had 

 so great and glorious a Vision who knoweth ? 



You have read the life of Eichard Jefferies. 

 You have seen how the country lad, ill- 

 educated, slenderly provided with books or 

 friends, formed in early life a resolution to 

 succeed in letters. The resolution was formed 

 when as yet he had no knowledge or thought 

 of style. You have read how he fought long 

 years against ill-success, against the ridicule 

 and coldness of his friends, but still kept up 

 his courage ; how he did succeed at length, yet 

 not at all in the way that at first he hoped. 

 That way would have taken him along the 

 paths trodden by those who write romances 

 and stories to beguile their brothers and 

 sisters, and to cheat them into forgetfulness 

 of their disappointments and anxieties ; that 

 way, by which he wished to go, would have 



