of the times.'" Now why an "historical novel" should not be a "novel
pure and simple," and what kind of literary achievement a "sign of the
times" may be, I leave the reader to guess. The whole passage seems to
suggest a certain confusion in the Kingsley family with regard to the
fundamental divisions of literature. And it seems clear that the
Kingsley family considered novel-writing "pure and simple"--in so far
as they differentiated this from other kinds of novel-writing--to be
something not entirely respectable.

Their opinion of Henry Kingsley in particular is indicated in no
uncertain manner. In Mrs. Charles Kingsley's life of her husband,
Henry's existence is completely ignored. The briefest biographical
note was furnished forth for Mr. Leslie Stephen's _Dictionary of
National Biography_: and Mr. Stephen dismisses our author with a few
curt lines. This disposition to treat Henry as an awful warning and
nothing more, while sleek Charles is patted on the back for a saint,
inclines one to take up arms on the other side and assert, with Mr.
Shorter, that "when time has softened his memory for us, the public
interest in Henry Kingsley will be stronger than in his now more
famous brother." But can we look forward to this reversal of the
public verdict? Can we consent with it if it ever comes? The most we
can hope is that future generations will read Henry Kingsley, and will
love him in spite of his faults.

Henry, the third son of the Rev. Charles Kingsley, was born in
Northamptonshire on the 2nd of January, 1830, his brother Charles
being then eleven years old. In 1836 his father became rector of St.
Luke's Church, Chelsea--the church of which such effective use is made
in _The Hillyars and the Burtons_--and his boyhood was passed in that
famous old suburb. He was educated at King's College School and