Kingsley's work was most varied. Besides his novels, his professional work, such as sermons, and his lectures as Professor of History at Cambridge, we may mention his beautiful fairy-tale, _The Water Babies_ (1863), with its exquisite snatches of verse, 'Clear and Cool,' and 'When all the world is young.' His poetry, if it were as copious as it is often high in quality, would place him among the great. But it was only occasional. Besides short pieces, he was the author of a drama, _The Saint's Tragedy_ (1848), somewhat immature, and of _Andromeda_ (1858), one of the few specimens of English hexameters that are readable, and that seem to naturalise the metre in our language. It is however noticeable that Kingsley's success is won at the cost of wholly altering the character of the measure. _Andromeda_ is true and fine poetry, but its effect is not that of 'the long roll of the hexameter.' There is a very great preponderance of dactyls. This is the case with almost all English hexameters; and the fact goes far to prove that the hexameter, as understood by the ancients, a fairly balanced mixture of dactyls and spondees, is not suited to the genius of English. [Sidenote: Henry Kingsley (1830-1876).] Henry Kingsley, the younger brother of Charles, was a novelist likewise, but one of considerably less merit. He passed some years in Australia, and his experiences there supplied materials for one of his best stories, _Geoffrey Hamlyn_. That by which he is best known is however _Ravenshoe_ (1862). His novels are extremely loose in construction, and he is no rival to his brother in that exuberance of spirits which gives to the writings of the latter their most characteristic excellence. [Sidenote: Anthony Trollope (1815-1882).]