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When Lord Shaftesbury’s lamented death lately touched the national heart, I felt as others did and uttered this sentiment accordingly:—­

    The Good Earl.

    “Grieve not for him, as those who mourn the dead;
    He lives!  Ascended from that dying bed,
    Clad in an incense-cloud of human love,
    His happy spirit met the blest above;
    And as his feet entered the golden door,
    With him flew in loud blessings of the poor;
    While in a thrilling chorus from below—­
    Millions of children, saved by him from woe,
    With their sweet voices joined the seraphim
    Who thronged in raptured haste to welcome him!

    “For God had given him grace, and place, and power
    To bless the destitute from hour to hour;
    And from a child to fourscore years and four,
    All knew and lov’d the Helper of the poor,
    O coal-pit woman-slave!  O factory child! 
    O famished beggar-boy with hunger wild! 
    O rescued outcast, torn from sin and shame! 
    Ye know your friend—­by myriads bless his name! 
    We need not utter it—­The Good, The Great,
    These are his titles in that Blest Estate.”

I was much touched and pleased with this little anecdote to the purpose.  Speaking casually to a bright-looking boy of the Shoeblack Brigade about Lord Shaftesbury (the boy didn’t know me from Adam), to find out how far he felt for his lost friend, with tears in his eyes he quoted to my astonishment part of the above, and told me that he and many of his mates knew it by heart, having seen it in some paper.  I never said who wrote it (probably he wouldn’t have believed me if I had) but left him happy with some pears.

Perhaps I may here add (and all this has been part of “My Life as an Author”) a couple of stanzas I wrote, (but never have published till now) on another worthy specimen of humanity, mourned in death by our highest:—­

    In Memoriam J.B.

    “Simple, pious, honest man,
      Child of heaven while son of earth,
    We would praise, for praise we can,
      Thy good service, thy great worth;
    Through long years of prosperous place
      In the sunshine of the Crown,
    With man’s favour and God’s grace
      Humbly, bravely, walked John Brown.

    “Faithful to the Blameless Prince,
      Faithful to the Widowed Queen,
    Loved,—­as oft before and since
      Truth and zeal have ever been,—­
    His no pedigree of pride,
      His no name of old renown,
    Yet in honour lived and died
      Nature’s nobleman, John Brown.”

Also, I will here give, as it appears nowhere else, a few lines to a dying brother, for the sake of recording his hopeful last three words:—­

    Dear Brother Dan’s Latest Whisper.