IN MEMORIAM.

PHILIP BENTLEY, A PENDLETON COLLIER.

Born 1840. Drowned in rescuing a boy from drowning, 1885. "How sleep the brave, who sink to rest

By all their country's wishes bless'd."-W. COLLINS.

How shall a valiant heart be proved
If he is not accounted brave,

Who, by appealing pity moved,
Gave up his life a life to save?

A boy was drowning in the stream,

When Bentley saw, and plunged therein;

He saw the danger was extreme,

But fearless fought and meant to win.

With his last strength, upon the shore

He pushed the youth with outstretched hand;
Then sank, to live on earth no more

Till death submits to God's command.

The boy, whose wont it was to rove
All summer through the sunny fields,
Beguiled by nature with the love
That never to misfortune yields,
Beheld, among the treacherous reeds,
A radiant flower of rarest hue;
And youth no warning legend heeds
When matchless beauty meets his view.

Along the water's bank he sped,

Then stopped to clutch the glittering prize;
Nor saw the stream beneath him spread,
That dashed the image from his eyes.

But Bentley saw-whose noble soul
Disdained the counsels of the weak,
And fears that craven men control,
Who will not act and dare not speak.

Give him all honour, ye who love
Whate'er is noble, true, or brave;
Glory is his in realms above,

But here an undistinguished grave!

And ye who read these humble rhymes,
Repeat the story as you may,
Nor fear to tell it in all climes;

And, ere you make an ending, say,
That heroes live in England yet,
Who, fighting not for glory's sake,
Or to increase the nation's debt,
Would bravely kiss the burning stake;
Who count false honour a disgrace,
Though ready with their latest breath
To do what duty bids, and face

Sublimely all the powers of death.
And further say, that he who gave
His life a ransom for the youth,
Was plebeian born, but, being brave,
Had the nobility of truth.

And thou, O slowly gliding stream,
Rehearse thy melancholy hymn
O'er Kersal's vale at day's extreme,
The while we sadly sigh for him!

"SOME OF SALFORD'S ALMOST

FORGOTTEN WORTHIES."

Mr. Thomas Costley gave the third of a series of lectures in the Pendleton Town Hall on Thursday evening, December 19, his subject being "Salford's Almost Forgotten Worthies."

Mr. LEES KNOWLES, M.P., who presided, said the object of the lectures, which were being given in aid of the funds of the Salford Royal Hospital, an unique institution, appealed to everyone. It was a matter for regret that there was a deficiency in the funds, and that that deficiency was being made up by disposing of some of the capital of the hospital. They all knew how much local need there was for a hospital, hence it was a pity that the funds were decreasing. It was not because people were not charitable, for within the last few days there had been a bazaar held in Manchester in aid of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children, and upwards of £10,000 had been raised. That was a large sum, and he hoped it would be expended for the benefit of the district, and not be taken elsewhere, for they must remember that "charity begins at home." (Hear, hear.) He felt it would be a good thing if a similar bazaar could be held in aid of their local charity. (Hear, hear.) Mr. Costley informed him that he had been successful in obtaining support from a considerable number of friends who had not been able to avail themselves of the opportunity of attending the lectures. The sale of tickets would cover the expenses and leave a balance in hand. (Cheers.)

Mr. COSTLEY, who met with a hearty reception, said: Mr. Lees Knowles, Ladies and Gentlemen,-Before I proceed to the immediate subject matter of my lecture, I should like to explain that I do not wish to imply in the term "almost forgotten," the idea that the worthies of whom I am about to speak, have passed entirely out of the public memory. With regard to many of them, such no doubt is the case, but there are others whose monuments in the shape of institutions for the benefit of their fellow citizens, are continually before our eyes, and thus serve to keep their memories green. In my lecture on "Salford Authors," I was enabled to bring before you a goodly array of men whose productions entitled each of them to a place, whether high or low, in that portion of the temple of fame which is devoted to the heroes of literature. This evening, our gallery, while containing worthies belonging to a different order, will be quite as full, and, I trust, will prove equally as

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