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who had little leisure for the culture of letters, they afford a striking proof of the variety of his accomplishments and the refinement of his taste. In several of his Moral Essays both the subject and the manner betray an imitation of Cowley, who was at that moment beginn ng the reformation of English style."-SIR JAMES MACKINTOSH: Edin. Rev., xxxvi. 5, and in his Works, ii. 120. "The Essays of Sir George Mackenzie are empty and diffuse the style is full of pedantic words to a degree of barbarism; and though they were chiefly written after the Revolution, he seems to have wholly formed himself on the older writers, such as Sir Thomas Browne, or even Feltham."HALLAM : Lit. Hist of Europe, 4th ed., Lond., 1854,

iii. 559.

VIRTUE MORE PLEASANT THAN VICE.

The first objection, whose difficulty deserves an answer, is that virtue obliges us to oppose pleasures, and to accustom ourselves with such rigours, seriousness, and patience, as cannot but render its practice uneasy. And if the reader's own ingenuity supply not what may be rejoined to this, it will require a discourse that shall have no other design besides its satisfaction. And really to show by what means every man may make himself easily happy, and how to soften the appearing rigours of philosophy, is a design which, if I thought it not worthy of a sweeter pen, should be assisted by mine; and for which I have, in my current experience, gathered some loose reflections and observations, of whose cogency I have this assurance, that they have often moderated the wildest of my own straying inclinations, and so might pretend to a more prevailing ascendant over such whose reason and temperament make them much more reclaimable. But at present my answer is, that philosophy enjoins not the crossing of our own inclinations, but in order to their accomplishment; and it proposes pleasure as its end, as well as vice, though, for its more fixed establishment, it sometimes commands what seems rude to such as are strangers to its intentions in them. Thus temperance resolves to heighten the pleasures of enjoyment, by defending us against all the assaults of excess and oppressive loathing; and when it lessens our pleasures, it intends not to abridge them, but to make them fit and convenient for us, even as soldiers, who, though they purpose not wounds and starvings, yet if without these they cannot reach those laurels to which they climb, they will not so far disparage their own hopes as to think they should fix them upon anything whose purchase deserves not the suffering of these. Physic cannot be called a cruel employment, because to preserve what is sound it will cut off what is tainted; and these vicious persons whose laziness forms

this doubt do answer it when they endure the sickness of drunkenness, the toiling of avarice, the attendance of rising vanity, and the watchings of anxiety; and all this to satisfy inclinations whose shortness allows little pleasures, and whose prospect excludes all future hopes. Such as disquiet themselves by anxiety (which is a frequently repeated self-murder), are more tortured than they could be by the want of what they pant after: that longed-for possession of a neighbour's estate, or of a public employment, makes deeper impressions of grief by their absence than their enjoyment can repair. And a philosopher will sooner convince himself of their not being the necessary integrants of our happiness, than the miser will, by all his assiduousness, gain them.

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"The correctest writer of the age, and comes by a studious imitation of the ancients.... His nearest to the great original of Greece and Rome,

sermons are truly fine."-DR. H. FELTON: Dissert. on Reading the Classics, 1711.

"His language is always beautiful. . . . All his sermons deserve a reading."-DR. DODDRIDGE. VIEW OF THE DIVINE GOVERNMENT AFFORDED BY EXPERIMENTAL PHILOSOPHY. We are guilty of false interpretations of providence and wonders when we either make those to be miracles that are none, or when we put a false sense upon those that are real; when we make general events to have a private aspect, or particular accidents to have some universal signification. Though both these may seem at first to have the strictest appearance of religion, yet they are the greatest usurpations on the secrets of the Almighty, and unpardonable presumptions on his high prerogatives of punishment and reward.

And now, if a moderating of these extravagances must be esteemed profaneness, I confess I cannot absolve the experimental philosopher. It must be granted that he will be very scrupulous in believing all manner of commentaries on prophetical visions, in giving liberty to new predictions, and in assigning the causes and marking out the paths of God's judgments amongst his creatures.

He cannot suddenly conclude all extraor

THOMAS SPRAT.

dinary events to be the immediate finger of God; because he familiarly beholds the inward workings of things, and thence perceives that many effects which used to affright the ignorant are brought forth by the common instruments of nature. He cannot be suddenly inclined to pass censure on men's eternal condition from any temporal judgments that may befall them; because his long converse with all matters, times and places has taught him the truth of what the Scripture says, that "all things happen alike to all." He cannot blindly consent to all imaginations of devout men about future contingencies, seeing he is so rigid in examining all particular matters of fact. He cannot be forward to assent to spiritual raptures and revelations; because he is truly acquainted with the tempers of men's bodies, the composition of their blood, and the power of fancy, and so better understands the difference between diseases and inspirations.

But in all this he commits nothing that is irreligious. 'Tis true, to deny that God has heretofore warned the world of what was to come, is to contradict the very Godhead itself; but to reject the sense which any private man shall fasten to it, is not to disdain the Word of God, but the opinions of men like ourselves. To declare against the possibility that new prophets may be sent from heaven, is to insinuate that the same infinite Wisdom which once showed itself that way is now at an end. But to slight all pretenders that come without the help of miracles is not a contempt of the Spirit, but a just circumspection that the reason of men be not over-reached. To deny that God directs the course of human things, is stupidity; but to hearken to every prodigy that men frame against their enemies, or for themselves, is not to reverence the power of God, but to make that serve the passions, the interests, and revenges of men.

It is a dangerous mistake, into which many good men fall, that we neglect the dominion of God over the world, if we do not discover in every turn of human actions many supernatural providences and miraculous events. Whereas it is enough for the honour of his government, that he guides the whole creation in its wonted course of causes and effects: as it makes as much for the reputation of a prince's wisdom, that he can rule his subjects peaceably by his known and standing laws, as that he is often forced to make use of extraordinary justice to punish or reward.

Let us, then, imagine our philosopher to have all slowness of belief, and rigour of trial, which by some is miscalled a blindness of mind and hardness of heart. Let us suppose that he is most unwilling to

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grant that anything exceeds the force of nature, but where a full evidence convinces him. Let it be allowed that he is always alarmed, and ready on his guard, at the noise of any miraculous event, lest his judgment should be surprised by the disguises of faith. But does he by this dimin. ish the authority of ancient miracles? or does he not rather confirm them the more, by confining their number, and taking care that every falsehood should not mingle with them? Can he by this undermine Christianity, which does not now stand in need of such extraordinary testimonies from heaven? or do not they rather endanger it who still venture its truths on so hazardous a chance, who require a continuance of signs and wonders, as if the works of our Saviour and his apostles had not been sufficient? Who ought to be esteemed the most carnallyminded-the enthusiast that pollutes religion with his own passions, or the experimenter that will not use it to flatter and obey his own desires, but to subdue them? Who is to be thought the greatest enemy of the Gospel-he that loads men's faith by so many improbable things as will go near to make the reality itself suspected, or he that only admits a few arguments to confirm the evangelical doctrines, but then chooses those that are unquestionable? It cannot be an ungodly purpose to strive to abolish all holy cheats, which are of fatal consequence both to the deceivers and those that are deceived:to the deceivers, because they must needs be hypocrites, having the argument in their keeping; to the deceived, because if their eyes shall ever be opened, and they chance to find that they have been deluded in any one thing, they will be apt not only to reject that, but even to despise the very truths themselves which they had before been taught by those deluders.

But

It were, indeed, to be confessed that this severity of censure on religious things were to be condemned in experimenters, if, while they deny any wonders that are falsely attributed to the true God, they should approve those of idols or false deities. that is not objected against them. They make no comparison between his power and the works of any others, but only between the several ways of his own manifesting himself. Thus, if they lessen one heap, yet they still increase the other; in the main, they diminish nothing of his right. If they take from the prodigies, they add to the ordinary works of the same Author. And those ordinary works themselves they do almost raise to the height of wonders, by the exact discovery which they make of their excellencies; while the enthusiast goes near to bring down the price of the true and

primitive miracles, by such a vast and such a negligent augmenting of their number.

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"Beveridge's Practical Works are much like

SELF-DENIAL.

Christ hath said in plain terms, "If any man will come after me, let him deny himself;" implying that he that doth not deny himself cannot go after him.

By this, I hope, it appears that this inquiring, this scrupulous, this incredulous Henry's, but not equal to his."-DR. DODDRIDGE. temper, is not the disgrace, but the honour, of experiments. And, therefore, I will declare them to be the most seasonable study for the present temper of our nation. This wild amusing men's minds with prodigies and conceits of providence, has been one of the most considerable causes of those spiritual distractions of which our country has long been the theatre. This is a vanity to which the English seem to have been always subject above others. There is scarce any modern historian that relates our foreign wars but he has this objection against the disposition of our countrymen, that they used to order their affairs of the greatest importance according to some obscure omens or predictions that passed amongst them on little or no foundations. And at this time, especially this last year [1666], this gloomy and ill-boding humour has prevailed. So that it is now the fittest season for experiments to arise, to teach us a wisdom which springs from the depths of knowledge, to shake off the shadows, and to scatter the mists, which fill the minds of men with a vain consternation. This is a work well becoming the most Christian profession. For the most apparent effect which attended the passion of Christ was the putting of an eternal silence on all the false oracles and dissembled inspirations of ancient times. History of the Royal Society.

But besides that, there is an impossibility in the thing itself, that any one should be a true Christian or go after Christ, and not deny himself, as may be easily perceived if we will but consider what true Christianity requires of us, and what it is to be a real Christian. A true Christian, we know, is one that lives by faith, and not by sight; that "looks not at the things which are seen, but at those things which are not seen;" that believes whatsoever Christ hath said, trusteth on whatsoever he hath promised, and obeyeth whatsoever he hath commanded; that receiveth Christ as his only Priest to make atonement for him, as his only Prophet to instruct, and as his only Lord and Master to rule and govern him. In a word, a Christian is one that gives up himself and all he hath to Christ, who gave himself and all he hath to him; and therefore the very notion of true Christianity implies and supposes the denial of ourselves, without which it is as impossible for a man to be a Christian as it is for a subject to be rebellious and loyal to his prince at the same time; and therefore it is absolutely neces sary that we go out of ourselves before we can go to him. We must strip ourselves of our very selves before we can put on Christ; for Christ himself hath told us that "no WILLIAM BEVERIDGE, D.D., man can serve two masters; for either he will hate the one and love the other, or else born 1638, Bishop of St. Asaph, famous for he will hold to the one and despise the his learning, piety, and good works, was the other." We cannot serve both "God and author of many theological works, of which Mammon," Christ and ourselves too: so that a collective edition of those in English was we must either deny ourselves to go after first published, with a Memoir of the Au-Christ, or else deny Christ to go after ourthor, and a Critical Examination of his selves, so as to mind our own selfish ends and Writings, by Thomas Hartwell Horne, M.A., designs in the world. Lond., 1824, 9 vols. 8vo. New edition of Bishop Beveridge's Works, in Library of Anglo-Catholic Theology, 1848, 10 vols.

8vo.

"Our learned and venerable bishop delivered

himself with those ornaments alone which his subject suggested to him, and wrote in that plainness and solemnity of style, that gravity and simplicity, which gave authority to the sacred truths he taught, and unanswerable evidence to the doctrines he defended. There is something so great, primitive, and apostolical in his writings, that it creates an awe and veneration in our mind: the impor

tance of his subjects is above the decoration of words; and what is great and majestic in itself

And verily it is a hard case if we cannot deny ourselves for him, who so far denied himself for us as to lay down his life to redeem ours. He who was equal to God himself, yea, who himself was the true God, so far denied himself as to become man. yea. "a man of sorrows and acquainted with griefs," for us; and cannot we deny our selves so much as a fancy, a conceit, a sin, or lust, for him? How, then, can we expect that he should own us for his friends, his servants, or his disciples? No, he will never do it. Neither can we in reason expect that he should give himself and all the

THOMAS DECKER.

joice to behold his most handsome calf.

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merits of his death and passion unto us, so observations: for if he once get to walk by long as we think much to give ourselves to the book, and I see no reason but he may. him, or to deny ourselves for him. And as well as fight by the book, Paul's may be therefore if we desire to be made partakers proud of him: Will Clarke shall ring forth of all those glorious things that he hath encomiums in his honour; John, in Paul's purchased with his own most precious blood churchyard, shall fit his head for an excelfor the sons of men, let us begin here,-in-lent block; whilst all the inns of court redulge our flesh no longer, but deny ourselves whatsoever God hath been pleased to forbid. And for this end, let us endeavour each day more and more to live above ourselves, above the temper of our bodies, and above the allurements of the world: live as those who believe and profess that they are none of their own, but Christ's, his by creation: it was he that made us,-his by preservation: it is he that maintains us.-and his by redemption: it is he that hath purchased and redeemed us with his own blood. And therefore let us deny ourselves for the future to our very selves, whose we are not, and devote ourselves to him, whose alone we are. By this we shall manifest ourselves to be Christ's disciples indeed, especially if we do not only deny ourselves, but also take up our cross and follow him.

Private Thoughts on a Christian Life,
Part II.

Your Mediterranean isle is then the only gallery wherein the pictures of all your true fashionate and complimental gulls are, and ought to be, hung up. Into that gallery carry your neat body; but take heed you pick out such an hour when the main shoal of islanders are swimming up and down. And first observe your doors of entrance, and your exit; not much unlike the players at the theatres; keeping your decorums even in fantasticality. As, for example, if you prove to be a northern gentle. man, I would wish you to pass through the north door, more often especially than any of the other; and so, according to your countries, take note of your entrances.

Now for your venturing into the walk. Be circumspect, and wary what pillar you come in at; and take heed in any case, as you love the reputation of your honour, that you avoid the serving man's leg, and approach not within five fathom of that pillar; but bend your course directly in

THOMAS DECKER, OR DEK- the middle line, that the whole body of the

KER,

was well known in the reign of James I. as a writer of plays and tracts (more than fifty in number) and as a co-author with Webster, Rowley, Ford, and Johnson of various dramas. The best known of his productions is entitled The Gvll's Horne-booke, Lond., 1609, 4to; new ed., by Dr. Nott, Bristol, 1812, 4to.

"His 'Gul's Horne-Booke, or fashions to please all sorts of Guls,' first printed in 1609, exhibits a very curious, minute, and interesting picture of

the manners and habits of the middle class of so

ciety, and on this account will be hereafter frequently referred to in these pages."-Drake's Shakspeare and His Times.

"The pamphlets and plays of Decker alone would furnish a more complete view of the habits and customs of his contemporaries in vulgar and middle life than could easily be collected from all the grave annals of the times."(Lond.) Quar. Rev. In his description of London life, in The Fortunes of Nigel, Sir Walter Scott draws largely from The Gull's Horne-Booke, of which we give some specimens.

church may appear to be yours; where, in view of all, you may publish your suit in what manner you affect most, either with the slide of your cloak from the one shoulder; and then you must, as 'twere in anger, suddenly snatch at the middle of the inside, if it be taffeta at the least; and so by that means your costly lining is betrayed, or else by the pretty language of compliment. But to, the neglect of which makes many of our one note by the way do I especially woo you gallants cheap and ordinary, that by no means you be seen above four turns; but in the fifth make yourself away, either in some of the semsters' shops, the new tobacco office, or amongst the booksellers, where, if you cannot read, exercise your smoke, and inquire who has writ against this divine weed, &c. For this withdrawing yourself a little will much benefit your suit, which else, by too long walking, would be stale to the whole spectators: but howsoever, if Paul's jacks be once up with their elbows, and quarrelling to strike eleven; as soon as ever the clock has parted them, and ended the

How A GALLANT SHOULD BEHAVE HIMSELF fray with his hammer, let not the duke's

IN PAUL'S WALKS.

He that would strive to fashion his legs to his silk stockings, and his proud gait to his broad garters, let him whiff down these

gallery contain you any longer, but pass away apace in open view; in which departure, if by chance you either encounter, or aloof off throw your inquisitive eye upon any knight or squire, being your familiar,

salute him not by his name of Sir such-aone, or so; but call him Ned or Jack, &c. This will set off your estimation with great men; and if, though there be a dozen companies between you, 'tis the better he call aloud to you, for that is most genteel, to know where he shall find you at two o'clock; tell him at such an ordinary, or such; and be sure to name those that are dearest, and whither none but your gallants resort. After dinner you may appear again, having trans- | lated yourself out of your English cloth cloak into a slight Turkey grogram, if you have that happiness of shifting; and then be seen, for a turn or two, to correct your teeth with some quill or silver instrument, and to cleanse your gums with a wrought handkerchief; it skills not whether you dined or no; that is best known to your stomach, or in what place you dined; though it were with cheese, of your own mother's making, in your chamber, or study. The Gull's Horne-Booke.

THOMAS ELLWOOD, horn 1639, died 1713, was the author of Sacred History, or The Historical Part of the Holy Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments, Digested into due Method, with Observations, 1705-9, Lond., 1794, 2 vols. 8vo, and other works, of which a History of His Life, 1714, 8vo, is especially valuable on account of its description of Milton, to whom Ellwood was reader.

ELLWOOD'S DESCRIPTION OF MILTON. He received me courteously, as well for the sake of Dr. Paget, who introduced me, as of Isaac Penington, who recommended me, to both of whom he bore a good respect; and having inquired divers things of me, with respect to my former progressions in learning, he dismissed me, to provide myself of such accommodations as might be most suitable to my future studies.

I went, therefore, and took myself a lodging as near to his house (which was then in Jewin-Street) as conveniently I could; and, from thenceforward, went every day, in the afternoon (except on the first days of the week), and sitting by him in his diningroom, read to him such books in the Latin tongue as he pleased to hear me read.

At my first sitting to read to him, observing that I used the English pronunciation, he told me if I would have the benefit of the Latin tongue (not only to read and understand Latin authors, but to converse with foreigners, either abroad or at home), I must learn the foreign pronunciation. To

this I consenting, he instructed me how to sound the vowels, so different from the common pronunciation used by the English (who speak Anglice their Latin), that (with some few other variations in sounding some consonants, in particular cases, as C, before E or I, like Ch; Sc, before I, like Sh, &c.) the Latin thus spoken seemed as different from that which was delivered as the English generally speak it, as if it was another language.

I had, before, during my retired life at my father's, by unwearied diligence and industry, so far recovered the rules of grammar (in which I had once been very ready), that I could both read a Latin author and, after a sort, hammer out his meaning. But this change of pronunciation proved a new difficulty to me. It was now harder to me to read than it was before to understand when read. But

Labor omnia vincit
Improbus.

Incessant pains
The end obtains.

And so did I, which made my reading the more acceptable to my master. He, on the other hand, perceiving with what earnest all the encouragement, but all the help, he desire I pursued learning, gave me not only could; for, having a curious ear, he understood, by my tone, when I understood what I read, and when I did not; and accordingly would stop me, examine me, and open the most difficult passages to me.

Thus I went on for about six weeks' time, reading to him in the afternoons, and exercising myself, with my own books, in my chamber, in the forenoon. I was sensible of an improvement.

But, alas! I had fixed my studies in a wrong place. London and I could never agree for health. My lungs (as I suppose) were too tender to bear the sulphureous air of that city; so that I soon began to droop, and in less than two months' time I was fain to leave both my studies and the city, and return into the country to preserve life; aud much ado I had to get thither. [Having recovered, and gone back to London,] I was very kindly received by my master, who had conceived so good an opin ion of me that my conversation (I found) was acceptable to him; and he seemed heartily glad of my recovery and return; and into our old method of study we fell again, I reading to him, and he explaining to me as occasion required.

Some little time before I went to Aylesbury prison I was required by my quondam master. Milton, to take a house for him in the neighbourhood where I dwelt, that he

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