Ever setting duty and citizenship before their own eyes, and the eyes of those whom they guided and taught, the Founders of the College were intensely good Englishmen and whole-hearted lovers of their country without any reservations. That the claims of class should ever compete with duty to the State would have been abhorrent to them. Nor were they scared by any bogey of militarism. The members of the College entered heart and soul into the Volunteer movement of 1859, and a corps was formed, one of the earliest of all the volunteer corps, which became the 19th Middlesex. As might be expected, Tom Hughes was the commandant; prominent among the officers were John Martineau, pupil and intimate friend of Charles Kingsley, and the Anglo-Saxon scholar, Dr. Furnivall, most bellicose of men; while Maurice himself became chaplain of the regiment. In these days of conscientious objectors, many might with advantage read a letter which Maurice wrote to his soldier son, afterwards the distinguished military writer, Sir Frederick Maurice, and in which the nobility of the soldier’s calling is set forth by one who had been brought up in tenets of a widely different kind, but had renounced them on the principles which governed his whole life—duty to man and fear of God. The letter is published in the memoir of Sir Frederick Maurice by his son, now also General Maurice, who in the third generation is adding new distinction to a great and honoured name. During his thirty-six years of parish work in London, Llewelyn Davies had little time to give to the teaching or management of the College; and for the nineteen years when he held the living of Kirkby Lonsdale, he was necessarily cut off from it, save for occasional visits, as was Tom Hughes in his County Court Judgeship at Chester. He had taken a Bible class in early days, in 1866; and after he came back from Westmorland to end his days in retirement in London, again, a very old but still vigorous man, he took the Bible class for a short time. His last words spoken at the College were at our annual supper in the Maurice Hall, in December 1910. He testified that ‘the College had always opened its arms to those who came to it with the idea of not merely getting personal advantage, but of becoming better citizens of their country, and better members of the great human family, and who desired to serve their country and kind to the best of their power’; and he claimed that ‘every one who had been associated with the College, either as teacher or as student, had felt in some degree that they were honoured by their connection with it.’ It probably never entered into his head that the College was honoured by association with him. His speech ended with what he said and felt might be a parting benediction, ‘God bless the Working Men’s College.’ He was never able to come among us again, but as each Founder’s Day came round we remembered him, and he remembered us. And we shall ever remember him and his work.