Sound, thou trumpet of God; come forth, great cause, to array us.

King and leader appear; thy soldiers sorrowing seek thee. Would that the armies indeed were arrayed! O where is the battle!

Clough, strongly pessimistic, did not attempt to solve these problems, but stated and accepted them as if they were inevitable and insoluble. It was he that Emerson had in mind-though they were the best of friends, but far asunder in their habits of thought--when he said: "Ah!' says my languid Oxford gentleman, nothing new or true and no matter.'" The following stanza expresses this feeling :

Like a good subject and wise man,
Believe whatever things you can,
Take your religion as 'twas found you,
And say no more of it, confound you.

And yet it is hardly just to call Clough's poetry cynical. It is realistic and virile and describes much in our thoughts and feelings and speculations that leads to cynical conclusions. Much that is pretentious and more that is absurd in creed and thought dissolve under the keen light he throws upon it.

How keen are the following verses :

Some future day, when what is now is not,

When all old faults and follies are forgot,

And thoughts of difference passed like dreams away—
We'll meet again upon: some future day.

When all that hindered, all that vexed our love,
The tall, rank weeds that climb the blade above,
And all but it has yielded to decay—

We'll meet again upon some future day.

When we have proved, each on his course alone,
The wider world, and learnt what's now unknown,
Have made life clear and worked out each a way--
We'll meet again; we shall have much to say.

With happier mood, and feelings born anew,
Our boyhood's bygone fancies we'll review,
Talk o'er old talks, play as we used to play,
And meet again on many a future day.

Some day, which oft our hearts shall yearn to see
In some far year, though distant yet to be,
Shall we indeed-ye winds and waters say !—
Meet yet again upon some future day?

Many other of his poems we would delight to quote, such as "Green Fields of England," or "Where lies the land to which the ship would go?" but we can only refer readers to the printed volume. There they will find much that will be a revelation and a delight.

WALTER BAGEHOT,

BUSINESS MAN IN LITERATURE.

(1826-1877.)

WE frequently hear of the " business man in politics," though perhaps not so often as we should, but we do not hear, save at great intervals, of the business man in letters. That is, of the man who, highly educated or with strong literary tendencies, after devoting most of his time to the acquisition of fortune in the ordinary channels of business, giving some part of his remaining hours to the literary calling. There must be large numbers of men in the United States who are university bred, not in professional life but engaged in other callings, who could, if they would, do great things in literature and art and thus promote the general culture of the public.

Doubtless there are some who are thus engaged, as our art institutes and libraries testify, but their number is by no means as great as it might

be.

Of men of this character Walter Bagehot is the best type we have, though his fame to-day, more than twenty years after his death, is by no means as great as it should be.

Those who know Bagehot's works know their inexpressible charm and value-their charm as literary productions, their value as increasing the world's treasures of thought.

It was said by one of his countrymen that when Bagehot died he "carried away into the next world more originality of thought than is now to be found in the three estates of the realm."

He wrote on what Carlyle has called "the dismal science"-political economy-and made it as interesting as a novel; his work on banking, entitled "Lombard Street," valuable as it is to all thinkers on finance, is fascinating through its mere literary expression; he wrote "The English Constitution," and statesmen make it their handbook, while his writings on history and on a hundred topics, critical and literary, belong to literature, and may be read with infinite pleasure by all sorts and conditions of readers. And yet he was a business man, pursuing a business calling.

His life was neither eventful nor adventurous, though he was born in Somersetshire, England, the country of the Doones, made famous to us in

fiction by the adventures of John Ridd and Lorna Doone. He was educated at London University, where he came to some extent under the influence of Arthur Hugh Clough, who was one of the instructors there and was a few years the elder. There were points of likeness between them that attracted each to the other. They both had high boyish spirits and a good deal of vigor, but also great natural reserve and intense dislike for everything approaching sentimentality. Both were passionate admirers of Wordsworth's poetry, and both loved the truth and sought it eagerly. There was a tendency to cynicism in both of them, arising out of the feeling that men were in such a hurry to solve the puzzles of life and nature that they were constantly grabbing at halftruths and consequently meeting always with discomfiture.

Bagehot at first was intended for the bar, but gave that up to join his father in the management of a bank in Somerset, which had been in the family for several generations, and also to take part in the business of merchant and ship-owner. This required frequent visits to London and Liverpool, and Bagehot soon developed a genuine liking for the larger operations of commerce, and found business much more amusing than pleasure. He