“He lived for a period of fifteen years longer, and, I venture to say, in that time he did more practical good than any statesman or soldier of his time. He gave of the accumulated experience of life, generously and widely. He invested large sums for the aid of respected and aged poor, a thing which hitherto had been thought to be the work of the poorhouses. He spent the last years of his life a philosopher and philanthropist, respected and beloved—leaving the outward battle of life for those who had still to win their spurs. So great was the impression left by his conduct that others, lesser men or equal, followed suit. And gradually the law came in that all at sixty-five resigned their office, not as unfit for work, but as having done their full share of labour in the field—ready to give advice when sought, and ready to turn a life’s experience into a profitable channel for the good of the community. And with such critics standing by, capable of judging, and unsparingly, it acted as a spur to the generation following. “And so it is that age is there the most respected. Generation of workers follows generation in perfect order. In State, in Church, in every division of labour there is vigour and freshness. For why is the Church to be excluded? On the plea of sacred exemption? A most sacred fallacy that is so ticklish it won’t bear touching, and holds together pretty much as the old crimson curtain in the temple held, till the hand of God, through the agency of moths, tore it down from the rings of gold.” “There’s many a man young at sixty-five,” one argued. “Have I not given you a notable example of one who turned his mind from business to philanthropy, and gave his mind and energy and wealth to it.” “There’s many a man has died soon after giving up the business of his life, if it’s compulsory.” Mr. Barringcourt laughed. “He’s either narrow-minded, with no interest outside his own affairs, or he worships his work above the Serpent. He should be careful.” “Many of our finest clergy are over the age you mention.” “They push out or keep down the younger men who are just as fine. If they wish to remain in office after age, let them work for the love of the thing—for nothing.” Then he sat down. And not long afterwards the guests departed. “What a curious speech that was of Mr. Barringcourt’s,” said Miss Crokerly to her brother, as they drove home. “Yes. He’d argue black was white when in a mood to do so. But I’ll call on him to-morrow. According to his verdict, there’s only three years good work left in me now.”