priety. He said to the ringleader, if you don't stop this, I'll box your ears"; a threat which he carried into execution so promptly that the conversation was speedily diverted into other channels.

'When the Grammar School Debating Society was instituted, he soon became a prominent member, but was generally to be found voting in the minority. He felt throughout life

"A weakness for the weaker side,

A siding with the helpless weak";

and might often be found heading a forlorn hope, or arguing vigorously in favour of an unpopular opinion. Amongst our schoolfellows was Edgar A. Jones (son of Ernest Jones, the Chartist), and it was amusing to see how frequently Alfred would take his part in a discussion, attracted, I believe, actually, though unconsciously, by the pleasure of defending a position which almost every one else regarded as extreme and occasionally ridiculous. Nothing pleased him more than to demolish some conventional common-place, or to show how much truth there was in a doctrine cried down by the world, or how much good there was in some unpopular character. This peculiarity occasionally, I think, warped his judgment, and led him to defend in conversation what, in his heart of hearts, he really condemned. He felt that even a false opinion must be refuted truthfully, and not by mere plausibility. During these Manchester days Mr. Ruskin visited and addressed the school. After the address was concluded Alfred and I went as usual to Oxford Road station. There we found Mr. Ruskin. We were easily recognised by our caps as Grammar School boys, and the great man delighted us immensely by shaking hands with us and talking in so pleasant and kindly a way that we always preserved a sort of personal affection for the man whose Modern Painters had been our early and favourite reading book. He enquired whether he had been distinctly heard by the boys generally. I, possibly with more regard for politeness than accuracy, answered "Yes." But Alfred, whose conscience compelled him to be candid, and who had an invincible objection to saying what he was expected to say, or to committing himself fully to anything, Isaid that he feared not,'

CHAPTER III.

TEN MONTHS OF THE life of A GRAMMAR

SCHOOL BOY.

N August, 1866, Alfred began a regular journal. This is his first entry :—

IN

'Manchester, August 12th, 1866.—From this day, on which I commence my life away from, and in a measure independent of, home, I have determined to keep a journal.

'As there is much diversity of opinion as to the utility or such a practice, I consider it worth while to state the advantages I hope to receive from it.

‘I. The habit of reflection and self-examination, which is so necessary to mental and moral culture, will, I believe, be fostered by this practice to an extent that would not be the result of any other method.

'II. By noting down that which has happened on each day, while the events are still fresh in my mind, I shall provide me with an accurate history of my own life, which cannot fail to be of great use to me in after-years.

'III. By comparing, at any future time, my condition as described in my journal with that at the time of reference, I shall be more easily able to estimate my progress in study, etc.

'IV. If at any time I am overcome by temptation, and fall into bad habits, or into more open sin, I pray to God that the sight of the record of my previous life may be made the means of restoring me to that state "when it was better with me." Amen.'

It will be seen (to recur to his own figure) how steady and how strong was the combined current of his intellectual and spiritual life, and how complete was their commingling.

It

will be seen also how strict, how thorough, and how honest was his self-scrutiny. In Seneca's phrase, 'He inspects himself all round; he reckons himself up, or takes stock of himself (se circumspicit, se æstimate). Yet we find no morbid introspection, no nervous pulse-feeling. He is altogether too preoccupied for that. He is keenly interested in the present prosperity of the Church, and 'covets earnestly,' and cultivates assiduously, 'the best gifts.' Whilst he is plodding indefatigably at his severe school-work, he recreates himself with English literature. His tastes and aims are simple, sober, practical; yet the strong poetic underflow will ever and again burst forth in song.

He gives a detailed account of each day's occupation, almost as minute as John Wesley's diary of his life in Georgia. We see the indomitable student, intent not only on honour-winning acquisition, but still more on the mastery and consolidation of his mental conquests; for he writes short critiques on the books at which he 'grinds.' The offset to this (and almost his only recreation, except his home-letters) is the eager interest he takes in passing politics. He makes notes of his newspaper-reading and his conversational conflicts on the merits of reported speeches, etc. Interspersed with his classical and literary were his Biblical and theological studies.

The journal may be best read in the light of the following extract from a paper which appeared in the Manchester Grammar School Magazine, a few months after his death (April, 1877):

'IN MEMORIAM.

'In our last number the early death of an old Manchester boy, the Rev. Benjamin Alfred Gregory, M.A., was announced. He was a man . . . who cared little to be known. This slight notice, however, is called for not only to render our tribute to the memory of a schoolfellow, but also to record a few recollections of a strangely veiled but strongly featured life.

He

'He entered the school at the age of thirteen. won the Shakespeare Scholarship, awarded then for the first

time, and never better deserved, for, in spite of health which always appeared far from vigorous, he constantly exercised an indomitable industry. We remember an occasion when we received a rebuke from the late High Master in these words: "I have had no worker since Gregory left."

'Though very reserved during all his school-life, he used frequently to attend the meetings of the Debating Society, and frequently to speak. . . . He was often original, always intensely in earnest, and always honest. When he appeared narrow, it arose not from narrowness of judgment, but width of prejudice; for he took all his views from one central standpoint, which he had chosen on principle, and dared not desert. At one of the speech days he recited a prize poem, on the subject Sir Galahad, which was characterized by a special religious tone, and this was the tone of his life. From the first he seemed to be possessed by a single purpose, which coloured all his thoughts, to the attainment of which he directed every energy; and this purpose once achieved, he died, almost immediately, from his exertions in its pursuit. It was a purpose, too, which he felt many people would regard probably with contempt, at least with compassion. To recall his own . . . firm answer, when once questioned about his future profession, he was resolved "to be a Wesleyan minister, commonly called a Methody parson." He was resolved at the same time to leave contempt little just ground, by carrying with him into his profession the best education anywhere to be afforded. ... His university career, like his school career, left nothing within his power undone.'

'When he appeared narrow, it arose not from narrowness of judgment, but width of prejudice.' What a striking and significant expression when interpreted by the context! So Paul: 'I determined not to know anything among you, save Jesus Christ.'

The 'strange veil' the following extracts from his diary will partly draw aside, revealing, to some extent, that 'strongly featured life.' I shall only quote those entries which are inost illustrative of his habits of thought and life. Here is part of his second entry :

( Afternoon, read Dean Alford. Then read a Millenarian tract: some of the arguments very weak; others no arguments at all' (gives an instance). After all, the absurdity of some writers must not make me reject the whole theory. I must take the first opportunity of investigating the matter. is too important to be merely laughed at! May God lead me to a right decision!

It

'After tea read Shaw till nine. Then amused myself trying to translate the hymn "Pone luctum." I mean to practise composition both in prose and verse as much as possible without neglecting anything else.'

This leisurely record of his impressions with regard to Millenarianism, whilst in the very paroxysm of preparation for a competitive examination which was to decide his course of life, is highly characteristic.

I subjoin his translation of 'Pone luctum':