oft seen, to convey a whole manor, was implicité contained in some twenty lines, or thereabouts. But now many skins of parchment must scarce serve turn. He that buys and sells a house must have a house full of writings." And then come "contention and confusion;" and men go to law; and "I know not how many years before the cause is heard, and when 'tis judged and determined, by reason of some tricks and errors it is as fresh to begin, after twice seven years sometimes, as it was at first." Who shall say that this is obsolete?

He is not very tolerant, either, towards his own profession. "So many professed Christians, yet so few imitators of Christ-so many preachers, so little practice; such variety of sects, such have and hold of all sides-such absurd and ridiculous traditions and ceremonies. * * * On the adverse side, nice and curious schismatics in another extreme, abhorring all ceremonies." Others, "Formalists, out of fear and base flattery, like so many weathercocks turn round, a rout of temporisers, ready to embrace and maintain all that is or shall be proposed, in hope of preferment."

He is no flatterer, either, of those who sit in high places: "A poor sheep-stealer is hanged for stealing of victuals, compelled peradventure by necessity of that intolerable cold, hunger, and thirst, to save himself from starving: but a great man in office may securely rob whole provinces, undo thousands, pill and poll, oppress ad libitum, flea, grind, tyrannise, enrich himself by spoils of

the Commons, be uncontrollable in his actions, and, after all, be recompensed with turgent titles, honoured for his good service, and no man dare find fault or mutter at it."

The philosophers and scholars—“men above men, minions of the Muses "-fare little better. "They that teach wisdom, patience, meekness, are the veriest dizzards, hairbrains, and most discontent." "A good orator is a mere voice; his tongue is set to sale." "Poets are mad; a company of bitter satirists, detractors, or else parasitical applauders." "Your supercilious critics, grammatical triflers, note-makers, curious antiquaries, find out all the ruins of wit, ineptiarum delicias, amongst the rubbish of old writers; make books dear, themselves ridiculous, and do nobody good; yet if any man dare oppose or contradict, they are mad, up in arms on a sudden-how many sheets are written in defence, how bitter invectives, what apologies!" I could almost fancy the old satirist was pointing at Shakspere commentators.

Burton lived before newspapers, and yet he had a very competent knowledge of what was going on in the world. I will conclude with a curious passage, which might, with few exceptions, have been written. by one of our age of electric telegraphs: "Though I still live a collegiate student, as Democritus in his garden, and lead a monastic life, secluded from those tumults and troubles of the world, in some high place above you all, as he said, I hear and see what is done abroad,-how others run, ride, tur

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moil, and macerate themselves in court and country, -a mere spectator of other men's fortunes and adventures, and how they act their parts, which methinks are diversely presented to me, as from a common theatre or scene. I hear new news every day, and those ordinary rumours of war, plagues, fires, inundations, thefts, murders, massacres, meteors, comets, spectrums, prodigies, apparitions ;-of towns taken, cities besieged, daily musters and preparations, and such like, which these tempestuous times afford battles fought, so many slain, monomachies, shipwrecks, piracies and sea-fights, peace, leagues, stratagems, and fresh alarums. A vast confusion of vows, wishes, actions, edicts, petitions, law-suits, pleas, laws, proclamations, complaints, grievances, are daily brought to our ears. books every day, pamphlets, currantoes, stories, whole catalogues of volumes of all sorts, new paradoxes, opinions, schisms, heresies, controversies in philosophy, religion, &c. Now come tidings of weddings, maskings, mummeries, entertainments, jubilees, embassies, tilts and tournaments, trophies, triumphs, revels, sports, plays. Then again, as in a new shifted scene, treasons, cheating tricks, robberies, enormous villainies in all kinds, funerals, burials, death of princes, new discoveries, expeditions; now comical, then tragical matters. To-day we hear of new lords and offices created, to-morrow of some great men deposed, and then again of fresh honours conferred; one is let loose, another imprisoned; one purchaseth, another breaketh; he

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thrives, his neighbour turns bankrupt; now plenty, then again dearth and famine; one runs, another rides, wrangles, laughs, weeps, &c. Thus I daily hear, and such like, both private and public news, amidst the gallantry and misery of the world; jollity, pride, perplexities and cares, simplicity and villainy, subtlety, knavery, candour and integrity, mutually mixed and offering themselves."

Who, at first sight, would imagine that this was written-Once upon a Time-in the seventeenth century?

"The world pursues the very track

Which it pursued at its creation;
And mortals shrink in horror back
From any hint of innovation:
From year to year the children do

Exactly what their sires have done;
Time is! Time was! there's nothing new,
There's nothing new beneath the sun."*

* W. M. Praed: Brazen Head.

MILTON, THE LONDONER.

THE best successor of Milton has described the character of the great poet's mind in one celebrated line:

"Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart."

It might at first seem, looking at the accuracy of this forcible image, that the name of Milton could not be properly associated with the state of society during the times in which he flourished. It is true that in the writings of Milton we have very few glimpses of the familiar life of his day; no set descriptions of scenes and characters; nothing that approaches in the slightest degree to the nature of anecdote; no playfulness, no humour. Wordsworth continues his apostrophe:

:

"Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea.'

The sprightlier dramatists have the voices of

"Shallow rivers, by whose falls

Melodious birds sing madrigals."

It is pleasant to sit in the sunshine and listen to the bubbling of the runnel over its pebbly bottom: but the times of Milton were for the most part dark and stormy, and with them the voice of the sea was in harmony. We can learn, while listening to that