fountain it self of heav'nly radiance; while the whole noise of timorous and flocking birds, with those also that love the twilight, flutter about, amaz'd at what she means, and in their envious gabble would prognosticat a year of sects and schisms.-(Areopagitica; a Speech of Mr. John Milton for the Liberty of unlicenc'd Printing, to the Parliament of England.)

JEREMY TAYLOR,

BISHOP OF DOWN AND CONNOR,

b. 1613, d. 1667.

Man having destroyed that which God delighted in, that is, the beauty of his soul, fell into an evil portion, and being seized on by the divine justice, grew miserable, and condemned to an incurable sorrow. Poor Adam, being banished and undone, went and lived a sad life in the mountains of India and turned his face and his prayers towards Paradise; thither he sent his sighs, to that place he directed his devotions, there was his heart now, where his felicity sometimes had been: but he knew not how to return thither, for God was his enemy, and by many of his attributes, opposed himself against him. God's power was armed against him; and poor man, whom a fly or a fish could kill, was assaulted and beaten with a sword of fire in the hand of a cherubim. God's eye watched him, His omniscience was man's accuser, His severity was his judge, His justice the executioner. It was a mighty calamity that man was to undergo, when He that made him armed Himself against His creature, which would have died or turned to nothing, if He had but withdrawn the miracles and the almightiness of His power; if God had taken His arm from under him, man had perished. But it was, therefore, a greater evil when God laid His arm on him, and against him, and seemed to support him that He might be longer killing him. In the midst of these sadnesses God remembered His own creature, and pitied it; and, by His mercy, rescued him from the hands of His power, and the sword of His justice, and the guilt of his punishment, and the disorder of his sin; and placed him in that order of good things where he ought to have stood. It was mercy that preserved the noblest of God's creatures here below; he who stood condemned and undone under all the other attributes of God was saved and rescued by His mercy; that it may be evident that God's mercy is above all His works, and above all ours, greater than the creation, and greater than our sins.-(God's Mercy.)

ABRAHAM COWLEY,

b. 1618, d. 1667.

The first minister of state has not so much business in publick, as a wise man has in private: if the one have little leisure to be

alone, the other has less leisure to be in company; the one has but part of the affairs of one nation, the other all the works of God and nature under his consideration. There is no saying shocks me so much as that which I hear very often, That a man does not know how to pass his time. 'Twould have been but ill spoken by Methusalem in the nine hundred and sixty ninth year of his life; so far it is from us, who have not time enough to attain to the utmost perfection of any part of any science, to have cause to complain that we are forced to be idle for want of work. But this, you'll say, is work only for the learned; others are not capable either of the employments, or divertisements, that arise from letters. I know they are not; and therefore cannot much recommend solitude to a man totally illiterate. But if any man be so unlearned as to want entertainment of the little intervals of accidental solitude, which frequently occur in almost all conditions (except the very meanest of the people, who have business enough in the necessary provisions for life) it is truly a great shame both to his parents and himself; for a very small portion of any ingenius art will stop up all those gaps of our time; either musick, or painting, or designing, or chymistry, or history or gardening, or twenty other things will de it usefully and pleasantly; and if he happen to set his affections upon poetry (which I do not advise him to immoderately) that will overdo it; no wood will be thick enough to hide him from the importunities of company or business, which would abstract him from his beloved. (Several Discourses by way of Essays in Verse and Prose.)

JOHN BUNYAN,

b. 1628, d. 1688.

INTERPRETER. Then said the Interpreter, Come in: I will show thee that which will be profitable to thee. So he commanded his man to light the candle, and bid Christian follow him; so he had him into a private room, and bid his man open a door; the which when he had done, Christian saw the picture of a very grave person hung up against the wall; and this was the fashion of it: he had his eyes lifted up to Heaven, the best of books in his hand, the law of truth was written upon his lips, the world was behind his back; he stood as if he pleaded with men, and a crown of gold did hang over his head.

CHRISTIAN. Then said Christian, What meaneth this?

INTERPRETER. The Man whose picture this is, is one ofa thousand; he (1 Cor. iv. 15.) can beget children (Gal. iv. 19.), travail in birth with children, and nurse them himself, when they are born. And whereas thou seest him with his eyes lifted to Heaven, the best of books in his hand, and the law of truth written on his lips: it is to show thee, that his work is, to know and unfold dark things to sinners; even as also thou seeth him stand as if he pleaded with men; and whereas thou seest the world as cast behind him, and

that a crown hangs over his head; that is to show thee, that slighting and despising the things that are present, for the love that he hath for his master's service, he is sure in the world that comes next to have glory for his reward. Now, said the Interpreter, I have showed thee this picture first, because the man whose picture this is, is the only man whom the Lord of the place whither thou art going hath authorized to be thy guide in all the difficult places thou mayest meet with in the way: wherefore take good heed to what I have showed thee, and bear well in thy mind what thou hast seen; lest in thy journey thou meet with some that pretend to lead thee right, but their way goes down to death.

Then he took him by the hand, and led him into a very large parlour that was full of dust, because never swept; the which after he had reviewed a little while, the Interpreter called for a man to sweep. Now, when he began to sweep, the dust began abundantly to fly about, that Christian had almost therewith been choked. Then said the Interpreter to a damsel that stood by, Bring hither the water, and sprinkle the room: which when she had done, it was swept and cleansed with pleasure.

CHRISTIAN. Then said Christian, What means this?

INTERPRETER. The Interpreter answered, this parlour is the heart of a man that was never sanctified by the sweet grace of the gospel; the dust is original sin and inward corruptions that have defiled the whole man. He that began to sweep at first, is the law; but she that brought water, and did sprinkle it, is the gospel. Now whereas thou sawest, that as soon as the first began to sweep, the dust did fly about, that the room by him could not be cleansed, but that thou wast almost choked therewith; this is to show thee, that the law, instead of cleansing the heart, by its working from sin (Rom. vii. 6.), doth revive, put (Cor. xv. 56.) strength into, and (Rom. v. 20.) increase in the soul, even as it doth discover and forbid it, for it doth not give power to subdue it.

Again, as thou sawest the damsel sprinkle the room with water, upon which it was cleansed with pleasure; this is to show thee, that when the gospel comes in the sweet and precious influences thereof to the heart, then, I say, even as thou sawest the damsel lay the dust by sprinkling the floor with water, so is sin vanquished and subdued, and the soul made clean, through faith of it, and consequently (John xv. 3. Rom. xvi. 25, 26. John xv. 13. Eph. v. 26. Acts xv. 9.) fit for the King of Glory to inhabit.—(Pilgrim's Progress.

SIR WILLIAM TEMPLE, BART.,

b. 1628, d. 1700.

The safety and firmness of any frame of government may be best judged by the rules of architecture, which teach us that the pyramid is of all figures the firmest, and least subject to be shaken or overthrown by any concussious or accidents from the earth or

air; and it grows still so much the firmer, by how much broader the bottom and sharper the top.

The ground upon which all government stands, is the consent of the people, or the greatest or strongest part of them; whether this proceed from reflections upon what is past, by the reverence of an authority under which they and their ancestors have for many ages been born and bred; or from sense of what is present, by the ease, plenty, and safety they enjoy; or from opinions of what is to come, by the fear they have from the present government, or hopes from another. Now that government which by any of these, or all these ways, takes in the consent of the greatest number of the people, and consequently their desires and resolutions to support it, may justly be said to have the broadest bottom, and to stand upon the largest compass of ground; and, if it terminate in the authority of one single person, it may likewise be said to have the narrowest top, and so to make the figure of the firmest sort of pyramid.

On the contrary, a government which by alienating the affections, losing the opinions, and crossing the interests of the people, leaves out of its compass the greater part of its consent, may justly be said, in the same degrees it thus loses ground, to narrow its bottom; and if this be done to serve the ambition, humour the passion, satisfie the appetites, or advance the power and interests not only of one man, but of two, or more, or many that come to share in the government; by this means the top may be justly said to grow broader, as the bottom narrower by the other. Now by the same degrees that either of these happen, the stability of the figure is by the same lessened and impaired; so as at certain degrees it begins to grow subject to accidents of wind and of weather; and at certain others, it is sure to fall of it self, or by the least shake that happens, to the ground.-(An Essay upon the Origin and Nature of Government.)

ISAAC BARROW,

b. 1630, d. 1677.

That distinction which thou standest upon, and which seemeth so vast between thy poor neighbour and thee, what is it? Whence did it come? Whither tends it? It is not any-wise natural, or according to primitive design: for as all men are in faculties and endowments of nature equal, so were they all originally equal in condition, all wealthy and happy, all constituted in a most prosperous and plentiful estate; all things at first were promiscu ously exposed to the use and enjoyment of all, every one from the common stock assuming as his own what he needed. Inequality and private interest in things (together with sicknesses and pains, together with all other infelicities and inconveniences) were the by-blows of our fall; sin introduced these degrees and distances; it devised the names of rich and poor; it begot these ingrossings and inclosures of things; it forged those two small pestilent words, meum and tuum,

which have engendred so much strife among men, and created so much mischief in the world: these preternatural distinctions were (I say) brooded by our fault, and are in great part fostered and maintained thereby; for were we generally so good, so just, so charitable as we should be, they could hardly subsist, especially in that measure they do. God indeed (for promoting some good ends, and for prevention of some mischiefs, apt to spring from our illnature in this our lapsed state; particularly to prevent the strife and disorder which scrambling would cause among men, presuming on equal right, and parity of force) doth suffer them in some manner to continue, and enjoyns us a contented submission to them: but we mistake, if we think that natural equality and community are in effect quite taken away; or that all the world is so cantonized among some few, that the rest have no share therein. No, every man hath still a competent patrimony due to him, and a sufficient provision made for his tolerable subsistence. God hath brought no man hither to be necessarily starved, or pinched with extreme want; but hath assigned to every one a child's portion, in some fair way to be obtained by him, either by legal right, or by humble request, which according to conscience ought to have effect. No man therefore is allowed to detain, or to destroy superfluously what another man apparently wants, but is obliged to impart it to him: so that rich men are indeed but the treasurers, the stewards, the caterers of God for the rest of men, having a strict charge to "dispense unto every one his meat in due season," and no just privilege to withhold it from any: the honour of distribution is conferred on them, as a reward of their fidelity and care; the right of enjoyment is reserved to the poor, as a provision for their necessity.—(Barrow's Works.)

JOHN TILLOTSON,

ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY,

b. 1630, d. 1694.

Amongst too many other instances of the great corruption and degeneracy of the age wherein we live, the great and general want of sincerity in conversation is none of the least. The world is grown so full of dissimulation and compliment, that men's words are hardly any signification of their thoughts; and if any man measure his words by his heart and speak as he thinks, and do not express more kindness to every man, than men usually have for any man, he can hardly escape the censure of rudeness and want of breeding. The old English plainness and sincerity, that generous integrity of nature and honesty of disposition, which always argues true greatness of mind, and is usually accompanied with undaunted courage and resolution, is in a great measure lost among us; there hath been a long endeavour to transform us into foreign manners and fashions, and to bring us to servile imitation of none of the best of our neigh