that her voice comforted her hands to work, and her hands kept time to her voice-music.

As for the houses of the country, for many houses came under their eye, they were all scattered, no two being one by the other-yet not so far as that it barred mutual succour; a show as it were of an accompaniable solitariness and of a civil wildness. The house itself was built of fair and strong stone, not affecting so much any extraordinary kind of fineness as an honourable representing of a firm stateliness. The lights, doors, and stairs rather directed to the use of the guest, than to the eye of the artificer; and yet, as the one chiefly needed, so the other not neglected. Each place handsome without curiousness, and homely without loathsomeness, not so dainty as not to be trod upon, nor yet slobbered up with good fellowship; all more lasting than beautiful, but that the consideration of the exceeding lastingness made the eye believe it was exceeding beautiful. The servants, not so many in number, as cleanly in apparel, and serviceable in behaviour, testifying even in their countenances that their master took as well care to be served of them, as of them that did serve.

SIR WALTER RALEIGH.

SIR WALTER RALEIGH, born A.D. 1552, beheaded 1618, in addi tion to numerous political pamphlets, projected, and in part finished, A History of the World from the Creation. The first extract is from the introduction to this work; the second is a letter to his wife, penned after receiving sentence of death.

DEATH, THE GREAT TEACHER.

If we seek a reason of the succession and continuance of boundless ambition in mortal men, we may add, that the kings and princes of the world have always laid before them the actions, but not the ends, of those great ones

which preceded them. They are always transported with the glory of the one, but they never mind the misery of the other, till they find the experience in themselves. They neglect the advice of God while they enjoy life, or hope it, but they follow the counsel of death upon his first approach.

It is he that puts into man all the wisdom of the world without speaking a word, which God, with all the words of his law, promises, or threats, doth not infuse. Death, which hateth and destroyeth men, is believed; God, which hath made and loves him, is always deferred. "I have considered," said Solomon, "all the works that are under the sun; and, behold, all is vanity and vexation of spirit:" but who believes this, till death tell it us? It was death which, opening the conscience of Charles V., made him enjoin his son Philip to restore Navarre; and King Francis I. of France, to command that justice should be done upon the murderers of the Protestants in Merindol and Cabrieres, which till then he neglected. It is death alone that can suddenly make man to know himself. He tells the proud and insolent that they are but abjects, and humbles them at the instant; makes them cry, complain, and repent, yea, even to hate their forepassed happiness. He takes the account of the rich, and proves him a beggar, a naked beggar which hath interest in nothing but the gravel which fills his mouth. He holds a glass before the eye of the most beautiful, and makes them see therein their deformity and rottenness, and they acknowledge it.

O eloquent, just, and mighty death! whom none could advise, thou hast persuaded; what none could advise, thou hast persuaded; what none hath dared, thou hast done; and whom all the world hath flattered, thou only hast cast out of the world and despised; thou hast drawn together all the far-stretched greatness, all the pride, ambition, and cruelty of man, and covered it all over with these two narrow words, "hic jacet."

LETTER TO HIS WIFE.

You will now receive, my dear wife, my last words, in these my last lines. My love I send you that you may keep it when I am dead, and my counsel that you may remember it. I would not, by my will, present you with sorrows, dear Bess! let them go into the grave with me, and be buried in the dust. And seeing that it is not the will of God that ever I shall see you again in this life, bear it patiently and with a heart like thyself.

First, I send you all the thanks which my heart can conceive, or my words can express, for your many travails and care taken for me; which, though they have not taken effect as you wished, yet my debt to you is not the less. But pay it I never shall in this world.

Secondly, I beseech you, for the love you bear me living, do not hide yourself many days after my death; but by your travail seek to keep your miserable fortunes, and the right of your poor child. Thy mournings cannot avail me-I am but dust.

Thirdly, you shall understand that my land was conveyed bona fide to my child. The writings were drawn at midsummer was twelve months. My honest cousin Brett can testify as much, and Dalberrie, too, can remember somewhat therein; and I trust my blood will quench their malice that have thus cruelly murdered me, and that they will not also seek to kill thee and thine with extreme poverty.

To what friend to direct thee, I know not, for all mine have left me in the time of trial; and I plainly perceive that my death was determined from the first day. Most sorry I am, God knows, that being thus surprised with death, I can leave you in no better estate.

When I am gone, no doubt you shall be sought to by many, for the world thinks that I was very rich. But take heed of the pretences of men and their affections, for they last not but in honest and worthy men; and no greater misery can befall you in this life than to become a prey, and afterwards to be despised.

I speak not this to dissuade you from marriage, for it will be best for you both in respect of this world and of God. As for me, I am no more yours, nor you mine. Death has cut us asunder, and God hath divided me from the world and you from me. Remember your poor child for his father's sake, who chose you and loved you in his happiest time.

Get those letters, if it be possible, which I write to the Lords, wherein I sued for my life. God is my witness, it was for you and yours that I desired my life. But it is true that I disdain myself for begging it; for know, dear wife, that your son is the son of a true man, and one who in his own respect despiseth death and all his misshapen and ugly forms. I cannot write much. God he knoweth, how hardly I steal this time while others sleep; and it is also high time that I should separate my thoughts from the world.

Beg my dead body, which living was denied thee, and either lay it at Sherborne, if the land continue, or in Exeter church, by my father and mother.

I can say no more. The everlasting, powerful, infinite God, who is goodness itself, the true life and true light, keep thee and thine, have mercy on me, and teach me to forgive my persecutors and accusers, and send us to meet in his glorious kingdom.

My poor wife, farewell! Bless my poor boy; pray for me, and let my good God hold you both in his arms. Written with the dying hand of sometime thy husband, but now, alas! overthrown.

Yours that was, but now not mine own.

RICHARD HOOKER.

RICHARD HOOKER, usually cited as "The judicious Hooker," was born A.D. 1553, filled first the office of Hebrew Professor at Oxford, afterwards of Master of the Temple, London, and died while Rector of Bishopsbourne, in Kent, A.D. 1600. The first extract is from one of his many published sermons, the second from his elaborate work, the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity.

REASON OF MORE VALUE THAN AUTHORITY IN

INDUCING OBEDIENCE TO LAW.

THE nature of man, being much more delighted to be led than drawn, doth many times stubbornly resist authority, when to persuasion it easily yieldeth. Whereupon the wisest law-makers have endeavoured always, that those laws might seem most reasonable, which they would have most invariably kept.

A law simply commanding or forbidding is but dead in comparison of that which expresseth the reason wherefore it doth the one or other. And surely, in the laws of God, although that He hath given commandment, be in itself a reason all sufficient to exact all obedience at the hands of men, yet a forcible inducement it is to obey with greater alacrity and cheerfulness of mind, when we see plainly that nothing is imposed more than we must needs yield unto, except we will be unreasonable. In a word, whatever we be taught, be it precept for direction of our manners, or article for instruction of our faith, or document any way for information of our minds, it then taketh root and abideth when we conceive not only what God doth speak, but why.

Neither is it a small thing which we derogate, as well from the honour of His truth, as from the comfort, joy, and delight which we ourselves should take by it, when we loosely slide over His speech, as though it were, as our own commonly is, vulgar and trivial. Whereas he uttereth nothing but it hath, beside the substance of doctrine delivered, a depth of wisdom in the very choice