to the manual workers as a class with interests distinct from those of the community. The spirit of class was to them anathema, the negation of brotherhood and of true citizenship, the enemy of the State. They taught that men should have their full living wage, if they earned it; that true citizen life implied conditions under which honest labour would always ensure to the labourer sufficiency of good food and a decent home; but they taught also that pounds, shillings, and pence are not the one thing needful; that possessions mean something more and something better than lands or wealth; that knowledge and wisdom, the manifold interests which come from knowledge, the intelligent appreciation of the world around, of men and things, are what life has to give, and are available to poor as well as to rich; that, if a man has knowledge, with bread to eat and a human home, it is a matter of indifference whether he is rich or whether he is poor: he is an equal among equals. So they taught, and so the students learnt and lived their lives accordingly. These men founded a college. Here is Maurice’s conception of a college, as given by Llewelyn Davies: ‘The name College had a significance on which Maurice loved to dwell.... A college was an association of teachers and learners; and that was what Maurice desired the Working Men’s College to be. It was not to be an institution to which the uneducated might resort, to pick up knowledge which might be of pecuniary benefit to them. The idea of fellowship was to run through all its work; every teacher was to assume that he might learn as well as teach; every student was to be made to feel that, in coming to the College, he was entering into a society in which he might hope to become more of a citizen and more of a man.’ This was no conception of a visionary, which ended in a dream. These were the lines laid down for practical guidance and application, and on these lines to this day the College lives and moves and has its being. My experience of the world at large has been that the rich man is apt to patronise the poor, and that working men in their turn are somewhat inclined to look askance upon would-be benefactors with good intent. But when I first went to the College a great many years ago, I found no signs of patronising, or being patronised. Nothing of the kind was in the minds of students or teachers: it was all natural. They were not troubling their heads as to social standing or worldly equipment; nor, on the other hand, was there the slightest affectation of studied equality or absence of the ordinary courtesies of life. There they were in their own College, friends among friends, all engaged in the same pursuit, the pursuit of knowledge, all ready to help and grateful for being helped. I found that a large proportion of the teachers were, as is still the case, student teachers; men who, having owed to the College all their store of knowledge, and much more also, had come back to repay