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tions were called for during the author's life, the last of which was published in 1676. This work is a rich storehouse of rural pictures and pastoral poetry, of quaint but wise thoughts, of agreeable and humorous fancies, and of truly apostolic purity and benevolence. It is a production unique in English literature. In writing it the author says he made a recreation of a recreation,' and by mingling innocent mirth and pleasant scenes with the graver parts of his discourse, he designed it as a picture of his own disposition. The work is, indeed, essentially autobiographical, both in spirit and in execution. A hunter and a falconer are introduced as parties in the dialogues, but they serve only as foils to the venerable, and complacent Piscator, in whom the interest of the piece wholly centres.
This remarkable production deserves more than an ordinary notice. The opening scene lets us, at once, into the genial character of the work and its hero. The three interlocutors meet accidentally on Tottenham hill, near London, on a 'fine fresh May morning. They are open and cheerful as the day itself. Piscator is going toward Ware, Venator to meet a pack of other dogs upon Amwell hill, and Anceps to Theobald's to see a hawk that a friend there mews or moults for him. Piscator willingly joins with the lover of hounds in helping to destroy otters, for he hates them perfectly, because they love fish so well, and destroy so much. The sportsmen proceed onward together, and they agree each to "commend his recreation or favorite pursuit. Piscator alludes to the virtue and contentedness of anglers, but gives the precedence to his companions in discoursing on their different crafts. The lover of hawking is eloquent on the virtues of the air, the element that he treads in, and on its varied winged inhabitants. He describes the falcon 'making her highway over the steepest mountains and deepest rivers, and, in her glorious career, looking with contempt upon those high steeples and magnificent palaces which we adore and wonder at.' The singing birds, 'those little nimble musicians of the air, that warble forth their curious ditties with which nature hath furnished them to the shame of art,' are descanted upon with pure poetical feeling and expression.
At first the lark, when she means to rejoice, to cheer herself and those that hear her, she then quits the earth, and sings as she ascends higher into the air; and having ended her heavenly employment, grows then mute and sad, to think she must descend to the dull earth, which she would not touch but for necessity.
How do the blackbird and throssel (song-thrush) with their melodious voices, bid welcome to the cheerful spring, and in their fixed mouths warble forth such ditties as no art or instrument can reach to!
Nay, the smaller birds also do the like in their particular seasons, as, namely, the laverock (skylark), the titlark, the linnet, and the honest robin, that loves mankind both alive and dead.
But the nightingale, another of my airy creatures, breathes such sweet loud music out of her little instrumental throat, that it might make mankind to think miracles are not ceased. He that at midnight, when the very labourer sleeps securely, should hear, as I have very often, the clear airs, the sweet descants, the natural rising and failing, the doubling and redoubling of her voice, might well be lifted above earth,
and say, 'Lord, what music hast thou provided for the saints in heaven, when thou affordest bad men such music on earth!'
The lover of hunting next takes his turn, and comments, though with less force, on the perfection of smell possessed by the hound, and the joyous music made by a pack of dogs in full chase. Piscator then unfolds his longtreasured and highly-prized lore on the virtues of water, sea, river, and brook; and on the antiquity and excellence of fishing and angling. The latter, he says, is somewhat like poetry; men must be born so. He quotes Scripture, and numbers the prophets who allude to fishing. He also remembers, with pride, that four of the twelve apostles were fishermen, and that our Saviour never reproved them for their employment or calling, as he did the scribes and money-changers ; for He found that the hearts of such men, by nature, were fitted for contemplation and quietness ; even of mild and sweet, and peaceable spirits, as, indeed, most anglers are. The rhetoric and knowledge of Piscator at length fairly overcame Venator, and he agrees to accompany him in his sport, adopts him as his master and guide, and in time becomes initiated into the practice and mysteries of the gentle craft. The angling excursions of the pair give occasion to the practical lessons and descriptions of the book, and elicit what is its greatest charm, the minute and vivid painting of rural objects, the display of character, both in action and conversation, the flow of generous sentiment and feeling, and the associated recollections of picturesque poetry, natural piety, and examples and precepts of morality. Walton's style is sprinkled, but not obscured, by the antiquated idiom and expression of his times, and clear and sparkling as one of his own favorite summer streams. Toward the close of his work, he indulges in the following strain of moral reflection and admonition, and is as philosophically just and wise in his councils, as his language and imagery are chaste, beautiful, and animated :
THANKFULNESS FOR WORLDLY BLESSINGS, Well, scholar, having now taught you to paint your rod, and we having still a mile to Tottenham High Cross, I will, as we walk toward it in the cool shades of this sweet honey-suckle hedge, mention to you some of the thoughts and joys that have possessed my soul since we met together. And these thoughts shall be told you, that you also may join with me in thankfulness to the Giver of every good and perfect gift for our happiness. And that our present happiness may appear to be the greater, and we the more thankful for it, I will beg you to consider with me how many do, even at this very time, lie under the torment of the stone, the gout, and the toothache; and this we are free from. And every misery that I miss is a new mercy; and, therefore, let us be thankfnl. There have been, since we met, others that have met disasters of broken limbs ; some have been blasted, others thunder-strucken; and we have been freed from these and all those many other miseries that threaten human nature; let us therefore rejoice and be thankful. Nay, which is a far greater mercy, we are free from the insupportable burden of an accusing, tormenting consciencema misery that none can bear; and therefore let us praise Him for his preventing grace, and say, every misery that I miss is a new mercy. Nay, let me tell you, there be many that have forty times our estates, that would give the greatest part of it to be
healthful and cheerful like us, who, with the expense of a little money, have eat, and drank, and laughed, and angled, and sung, and slept securely; and rose next day, and cast away care, and sung, and laughed, and angled again, which are biessings rich men can not purchase with all their money. Let me tell you, scholar, I have a rich neighbour that is always so busy that he has no leisure to laugh ; the whole business of his life is to get money, and more money that he may still get more and more money; he is still drudging on, and says that Solomon says, “ The hand of the diligent maketh rich ;' and it is true indeed; but he considers not that it is not in the power of riches to make a man happy: for it was wisely said by a man of great observation, " That there be as many miseries beyond riches as on this side them.' And yet God deliver us from pinching poverty, and grant that, having a competency, we may be content and thankful! Let us not repine, or so much as think the gifts of God unequally dealt, if we see another abound with riches, when, as God knows, the cares that are the keys that keep those riches, hang often heavily at the rich man's girdle, that they clog him with weary days and restless nights, even when others sleep quietly. We see but the outside of the rich man's happiness ; few consider him to be like the silkworm, that when she seems to play, is at the same time spinning her own bowels, and consuming herself; and this many rich men do, loading themselves with corroding cares, to keep what they have, probably unconscionably got. Let us therefore be thankful for health and competence, and, above all, for a quiet conscience.
Let me tell you, scholar, that Diogenes walked on a day, with his friend, to see a country fair, where he saw ribbons, and looking-glasses, and nut-crackers, and fiddles, and hobby-horses, and many other gim-cracks; and having observed them, and all the other finnimbruns that make a complete country fair, he said to his friend, ‘Lord, how many things are there in this world of which Diogenes hath no need! And truly it is so, or might be so, with very many who vex and toil themselves to get what they have no need of. Can any man charge God that he hath not given him enough to make his life happy? No, doubtless; for nature is content with a little. And yet you shall hardly meet with a man that complains not of some want, though he, indeed, wants nothing but his will; it may be, nothing but his will of his poor neighbour, for not worshiping or not flattering him; and thus, when we might be happy and quiet, we create trouble to ourselves. I have heard of a man that was angry with himself because he was no taller, and of a woman that broke her looking-glass because it would not show her face to be as young and handsome as her next neighbour's was. And I knew another to whom God had given health and plenty, but a wife that nature had made peevish, and her husband's riches had made purse-proud ; and must, because she was rich, and for no other virtue, sit in the highest pew in the church ; which being denied her, she engaged her husband into a contention for it, and at last into a law-suit with a dogged neighbour, who was as rich as he, and had a wife as peevish and purse-proud as the other; and this lawsuit begot higher oppositions and actionable words, and more vexations and lawsuits; for you must remember that both were rich, and must therefore have their wills. Well, this willful purse-proud law-suit lasted during the life of the first husband, after which his wife vexed and chid, and chid and vexed, till she also chid and vexed herself into her grave; and so the wealth of these poor rich people was cursed into a punishment, because they wanted meek and thankful hearts, for those only can make us happy. I knew a man what had health, and riches, and several houses, all beautiful and ready-furnished, and would often trouble himself and family to be removing from one house to another; and being asked by a friend why he removed so often from one house to another, replied, 'It was to find content in some one of them.' But his friend, knowing his temper, told him, 'If he would find content in any of his houses, he must leave himself behind them, for content will never dwell but in a meek and quiet soul.' And this may appear, if we read and consider
the parliament. He was, at the same time, one of the Cornhill lecturers, and his ministerial abilities procured him great reputation and popularity throughout London. Besides his own parishioners, citizens of eminence of other parishes, and even many of the nobility, frequently attended his preaching. He was a strenuous opposer of all sectarianism, and made every effort to prevent those violent measures which were pursued toward the king after his return from the Isle of Wight. The representation of the London ministers to Cromwell and his council of war, presented on the eighteenth of January, 1648, was drawn up to enforce what Calamy and some other presbyterian ministers had before delivered in two conferences, the first with the general and his council, and the second with the chief officers of the army.
During the Commonwealth, and the administration of Cromwell, Calamy lived in a retired and comparatively private condition; and as soon as a favorable opportunity presented itself he was very active in the restoration of Charles the Second. He preached before the parliament on the very day on which that body voted the king's restoration, and was one of the divines sent over to Holland to offer him their congratulations. In June, 1660, after the Restoration, Calamy was made one of his majesty's chaplains, and was, at the same time, offered the bishoprie of Coventry and Litchfield; but his conscientious opposition to Episcopacy would not permit him to accept it. On St. Bartholomew's day, 1662, he was turned out of his parish for nonconformity; and on the thirtieth of the following August he petitioned the king to allow him to continue in the exercise of his ministerial functions. Charles was inclined to grant his request, but the measure was so strenuously opposed by Seldon, Bishop of London, that, for consistency's sake, the petition was refused. On the sabbath of the twenty-eighth of December, 1662, the expected preacher not having arrived at the time for commencing the service, Calamy was prevailed upon, by some of the principal members of the parish, to supply his place. This, after some hesitation, he consented to do; but the following passages in his sermon gave such offence that the Lord Mayor committed the preacher to Newgate, for contempt of the Act of Conformity':
Addressing his former parishioners, he remarked
You have had three famous successors, Dr. Taylor, for seven years; Dr. Stoughten for seven years, and myself. I have been with you almost four-and-twenty years; and may not God now unchurch you, by suffering you to want a faithful minister to go in and out before you! This is one reason, upon which account I may safely say, the ark of God is in danger, and Aldermanbury may truly fear the loss of the ark.
And again I read that among the Romans, when any man was accused for his life, all his relations put on mourning apparel and they followed him to his trial in mourning, thereby to show their love to the party in danger. Now did you love the gospel,
the ministers of the gospel, and the ordinances of Christ, you would all put on mourning, and lament for the gospel, the ark of God that is in danger: and because you do not, it is a sign you have no love for the gospel.
Calamy continued to reside in the parish over which he had so long presided, until his death, which occurred on the twenty-ninth of October, 1666, and which is said to have been produced by the sight of London in ashes, after the great fire. Though a very learned divine, Calamy's sermons were of a plain and practical character; and five of them published together, under the title of The Godly Man's Ark, or a City of Refuge in the Day of his Distress, long possessed great popularity.
Sir William Dugdale and Bulstrode Whitelocke were contemporaries of Calany, and eminent in the departments of learning to which they respectively devoted themselves.
WILLIAM DUGDALE was born at Shustoke, in Warwickshire, on the twelfth of September, 1605. He received his early education at the free school in Coventry, and in the fifteenth year of his age returned to his father's house, and continued for some time to study civil law and history under paternal direction. His natural inclination leading him to the study of antiquities, he removed, in 1638, to London, and soon became acquainted with most of the distinguished antiquarians of the day. He prosecuted his researches for many years with very great success, and for his attainments was created, by Charles the Second, in 1667, a knight of the realm. His death occurred on the tenth of February, 1685, and two days after he was buried at Shustoke, in a small vault which he himself had previously caused to be made in the church of that place.
Sir William Dugdale was highly distinguished for his knowledge of heraldry and antiquities. His work entitled The Baronage of England, is, in its own department, one of the best in the language ; and his Antiquities of Warwickshire Illustrated, published in 1656, is placed in the foremost rank of county histories. He produced also a History of St. Paul's Cathedral; and in 1673 three volumes of a great work entitled Monasticon Anglicanum, intended to embrace the history of the monastic and other religious foundations which existed in England before the Reformation. Besides several other publications, Dugdale left a large collection of manuscripts, which are now to be found in the Bodleian library at Oxford, and at the Herald's college.
BULSTRODE WHITELOCKE, an eminent English lawyer, was the son of Sir James Whitelocke, knighted by Queen Elizabeth, and was born in Fleet street, London, on the sixth of August, 1605. He was instructed in grammar at Merchant Taylor's school, and thence he went, in 1620, to St. John's College, Oxford, of which Laud, afterward archbishop of Canterbury, was then pres. ident. For some reason not known, he left the university without taking a