and others of equal note. There were after dinner speeches of a brief character, and the guest of honor closed the evening with a few remarks which seemed to come directly from his heart. With the early summer, the _Times_ conceived the idea of sending “_The Reading Times_ Philosopher,” as he was becoming generally known, to the far west in order to gain fresh impression for his powerful articles. Accompanied by his loving wife and son, and a close friend Prof. Betts, he started away gaily. From letters and postcards he must have enjoyed himself, and his note-book shows he had jotted down ideas for five hundred and fifty new articles or editorials. The party returned to Chatham Run on July 20, where the philosopher maintained a comfortable home, and on the night of July 31, 1910, he was seized with heart failure and died a few hours later. Prompt medical aid from Dr. Joseph M. Corson, his friend and neighbor, was of no avail, and the giant intellect and friendly spirit returned to its original source. His funeral was the occasion of a tremendous outpouring of people, interment being made at Jersey Shore. The press of the entire State echoed the grief of his relatives and friends and the great loss to the literary world. The religious beliefs of such a man are always interesting. His can be summed up in the final sentence of the little speech he delivered at Reading, “We look around and in everything we see God.” It was the religion of humanity, the creed of helpfulness and good cheer. He lived up to the letter of his faith, for when he died he left a host of friends and no enemies. He had steered his bark through the perilous waters of life without hurting anyone, or sullying himself. It was a beautiful life, but to those who knew him comes the ever recurring regret “Why could not he have been spared a few years longer?” There was so much to do, the world was crying for his help. Maybe the publication of this book containing some of his most characteristic opinions will give renewed energy to his disciples and send them into the thickest of the fight for the betterment of mankind. If he had a motto it must have been “I want to leave the world a little brighter, a little better, a little happier than when I came in it.” Who knows, to what extent he succeeded! Time alone will measure the fulness of his fame, but he should rank as a nature lover with Henry D. Thoreau, as a humanitarian with Theodore Parker, and as a poet with Eugene Field. It is hoped his friends will get together and erect a memorial fountain or statue to his memory in Lock Haven, Jersey Shore or Williamsport, in the West Branch Valley whose people and scenery he loved so well. HENRY W. SHOEMAKER. September 4, 1911. I PLEAD GUILTY