to all, we ought not to accuse for a few and it is but reason to support That patiently, which cannot be prevented possibly. But I have now don with the Philosopher, and will dismisse you with the Divine. Brother, be not ignorant concerning them which are asleepe, that you sorrow not euen as others which have no hope: for if we believe that Jesus died and rose againe; euen so them also which sleepe in Jesus, will God bring with him. These are the words of St Paul, and I can add nothing to them.'

Within little more than a year after the date of this letter (Dec. 15, 1656), Mr. Evelyn was himself called to sustain a similar trial in the death of his own son Richard, whose singular precocity of talent seems to have been not more remarkable than his mature piety. The passage which records this afflictive circumstance in the Diary, is too interesting to be passed over.

1658. 27 Jan. After six fits of a quartan ague with which it pleased God to visite him, died my deare son Richard, to our inexpressible griefe and affliction, 5 yeares and 3 days old onely, but at that tender age a prodigy for witt and understanding; for beauty of body a very angel; for endowment of mind of incredible and rare hopes. To give onely a little taste of some of them, and thereby glory to God, who out of the mouths of babes and infants does sometimes perfect his praises; at 2 years and halfe old he could perfectly reade any of y English, Latine, French, or Gottic letters, pronouncing the three first languages exactly. He had before the 5th yeare, or in that yeare, not onely skill to reade most written hands, but to decline all the nouns, conjugate the verbs regular, and most of irregular; learn'd out Puerilis, got by heart almost ye entire vocabularie of Latine and French primitives and words, could make congruous syntax, turne English into Latine, and vice versa, construe and prove what he read, and did the government and use of relatives, verbs, substantives, elipses, and many figures and tropes, and made a considerable progress in Comenius's Janua; began himself to write legibly, and had a stronge passion for Greeke. The number of verses he could recite was prodigious, and what he remember'd of the parts of playes, which he would also act; and when seeing a Plautus in one's hand, he ask'd what booke it was, and being told it was comedy, and too difficult for him, he wept for sorrow. Strange was his apt and ingenious application of fables and morals, for he had read sop; he had a wonderful disposition to mathematics, having by heart divers propositions of Euclid that were read to him in play, and he would make lines and demonstrate them. As to his picty, astonishing were his applications of Scripture upou occasion, and his sense of God; he had learn'd all his Catechisme early, and understood ye historical part of the Bible and New Testament to a wonder, how Christ came to redeeme mankind, and how, comprehending these necessarys himselfe, his godfathers were discharg'd of their promise. These and the like illuminations far exceeding his age and experience, considering the prettinesse of his addresse and behaviour, cannot but leave impressions in me at the memory of him. When one

told him how many dayes a Quaker had fasted, he replied that was no wonder, for Christ had said man should not live by bread alone, but by y Word of God. He would of himselfe select ye most pathetic psalms, and chapters out of Job, to reade to his mayde during his sicknesse, telling her when she pittied him that all God's children must suffer affliction. He declaim'd against ye vanities of ye world before he had seene any. Often he would desire those who came to see him to pray by him, and a yeare before he fell sick, to kneel and pray with him alone in some corner. How thankfully would he receive admonition, how soone be reconciled! how indifferent, yet continually chereful! He would give grave advice to his brother John, beare with his impertinencies, and say he was but a child. If he heard of or saw any new thing, he was unquiet till he was told how it was made; he brought to us all such difficulties as he found in books, to be expounded. He had learn'd by heart divers sentences in Latin and Greeke, which on occasion he would produce even to wonder. He was all life, all prettinesse, far from morose, sullen, or childish in any thing he said or did. The last time he had ben at church (wch was at Greenewich), I ask'd him, according to costome, what he remember'd of ye sermon; two good things, father, said he, bonum gratiæ and honum gloriæ, with a just account of what ye preacher said. The day before he died he cal'd to me, and in a more serious manner than usual told me that for all I loved him so dearly, I should give my house, land, and all my fine things to his brother Jack, he should have none of them; and next morning, when he found himself ill, and that I persuaded him to keepe his hands in bed, he demanded whether he might pray to God with his hands un-joyn'd; and a little after, whilst in greate agonie, whether he should not offend God by using his holy name so often calling for ease. What shall I say of his frequent pathetical ejaculations utter'd of himselfe; Sweete Jesus save me, deliver me, pardon my sinns, let thine angels receive me! So early knowledge, so much piety and perfection! But thus God having dress'd up a Saint fit for himselfe, would not longer permit him with us, unworthy of ye future fraites of this incomparable hopefull blossome. Such a child I never saw for such a child I blesse God in whose bosome he is! May I and mine become as this little child, who now follows the child Jesus that Lamb of God in a white robe whithersover he goes; Even so, Lord Jesus, fiat voluntas tua! Thou gavest him to us, Thou bast taken him from us, blessed be ye name of ye Lord! That I had any thing acceptable to Thee was from thy grace alone, since from me he had nothing but sin, but that thou hast pardon'd! blessed be my God for ever, amen!

Here ends the joy of my life, and for which I go even mourning to the grave.'

Upon this occasion he received the following letter from his spiritual father.'

'Dear Sr

If dividing and sharing greifes were like the cutting of rivers, I dare say to you, you would find your streame much abated; for I account my lie to have a great cause of sorrow not onely in the diminution of

the numbers of your joyes and hopes, but in the losse of that pretty person, your strangely hopeful Boy. I cannot tell all my owne sorrowes without adding to yours; and the causes of my real sadnesse in your losse are so just and so reasonable, that I can no otherwise comfort you but by telling you, that you have very great cause to mourne: So certaine it is that greife does propagate as fire does. You have enkindled my funeral torch, and by joyning mine to yours, I doe but encrease the flame. Hoc me malè urit, is the best signification of my apprehension of your sad story. But S,, I cannot choose but I must hold another and a brighter flame to you -it is already burning in your breast: and if I can but remoove the darke side of the lanthorne, you have enough within to warme your selfe, and to shine to others. Remember, Sr, your two boyes* are two bright starres, and their innocence is secur'd, and you shall never heare evil of them agayne. Their state is safe, and Heaven is given to them upon very easy termes; nothing but to be borne and die. It will cost you more trouble to get where they are; and amongst other things one of the hardnesses will be, that you must overcome even this just and reasonable greife; and indeed, though the greife hath but too reasonable a cause, yet it is much more reasonable that you master it. For besides that they are no loosers, but you are the person that complaines, doe but consider what you would have suffer'd for their interest: you have suffer'd them to goe from you, to be great Princes in a strange Country; and if you can be content to suffer your owne incon venience for their interest, you command your worthiest love, and the question of mourning is at an end. But you have said and done well, when you looke upon it as a rod of God; and He that so smites here, will spare hereafter; and if you by patience and submission imprint the discipline upon your owne flesh, you kill the cause, and make the effect very tolerable; because it is in some sense chosen, and therefore in no sense unsufferable. S., if you doe not looke to it, time will snatch your honour from you, and reproach you for not effecting that by Christian philosophy which time will doe alone. And if you consider that of the bravest men in the world, we find the seldomest stories of their children, and the Apostles had none, and thousands of the worthiest persons that sound most in story died childlesse; you will find it is a rare act of Providence so to impose upon worthy men a necessity of perpetuating their Names by worthy actions and discourses, gouernments and reasonings. If the breach be neuer repair'd, it is because God does not see it fitt to be; and if you will be of his mind, it will be much the better. But S, if you will pardon my zeale and passion for your comfort, I will readily confesse that you have no need of any discourse from me to comfort you. S', now you have an opportunity of serving God by passive graces; strive to be an example and a comfort to your Lady, and by your wise counsel and comfort stand in the breaches of your owne family, and make it appeare that you are to her more than ten sons. S', by the assistance of Almighty God I purpose to wait on you some time next

*His youngest son, George, an infant, died 15 Feb. in the same year.

weeke, that I may be a witnesse of your Christian courage and bravery; and that I may see, that God neuer displeases you, as long as the maine stake is preserv'd, I mean your hopes and confidences of Heaven. St, I shal pray for all that you can want, that is, some degrees of comfort and a present mind; and shal alwayes doe you honour, and faine also would doe you seruice, if it were in the power, as it is in the affections and desires of, Deare S',

6 66

Your most affectionate and obliged freind and servant
Jer. Taylor.'

Feb. 17, 1657-8.

A Letter to Abraham Cowley solicits the Poet's aid in vindication of the fame of the Royal Society, which at that time, it appears, though it had a king to its founder,' was in want of a Mæcenas, and was sometimes made the subject of satire and the songs of drunkards.' A poet's eulogy, if Mr. Evelyn did not overrate its efficacy, would seem to have carried much more weight with it in those days than it would possess now. There is a letter to the Dutchess of Newcastle on the receipt of a copy of her works, which it is almost impossible to consider, if not as a direct banter, (for that supposition were at variance with the good-breeding of the Writer,) yet as a sportive parade of learning. The Editor, however, is of opinion that it is written in sober earnest, reminding us of the excessive homage paid to high rank and riches at that time of day. If the reader,' he adds, will turn to a very scarce and curious volume, entitled, "A collection of Letters and Poems, written by several Persons of Honour and Learning upon divers important subjects "to the late Duke and Dutchess of Newcastle, London, 1678," he will find that not only learned men, but learned bodies of men, made use of the same terms in celebrating the talents ' and accomplishments of these noble authors.' An extract must suffice as a specimen of this delicious morceau of euphuism.' ............ Nor, Madame, is it by this that I intend to pay all my homage for that glorious present, which merits so many encomiums, or write a panegyric of y virtues which all the world admires, least the indignitie of my style should prophane a thing so sacred; but to repeate my admiration of y' genius, and sublime witt so comprehensive of the most abstracted appearances, and so admirable in your sex, or rather in your Grace's person alone, which I never call to mind but to rank it amongst ye Heroines, and constellate with the Graces: Such of antient daies were Zenobia Queene of Palmyra, that writ the Historie of her Country, as yr Grace has don that of my Lord Duke y, husband, worthy to be transmitted to posteritie. What should I speak of Hilpylas, the mother in law of young Plinie, and of his admirable Wife! of Pulcheria daughter to the Emp. Arcadius, or of Anna who call'd Alexius father, and writ 15 books of Historie &c. ! Your Grace has title to all their perfections.'

Then, after running through a multitude of names,-Isabella,

queen of Castile, Lucretia d'Esté' the Dutchess of Urbin, Vittoria Colonna, Hippolita Strozzi, Mary of Arragon, Fabiala, Marcella, Eustochium, St. Catharine of Sienna, St. Bridget, and Therese, Fulvia Morata, Isabella Andreini, Margaret of Valois, and many more whom few of our readers will recognise as old acquaintance,-terminating the illustrious catalogue of female worthies with Queen Elizabeth, Queen Jane, the Lady Weston, Mrs. Philips our late Orinda,' the daughters of Sir Thomas More, and the Queen Christina of Sweden,-our polite Author adds:

'But all these I say, sum'd together, possess but that divided which y' Grace retaines in one; so as Lucretia Marinella, who writ a book (in 1601) dell' Excellenzia delle Donne, con difetti é mancamenti de gli huomini, had no neede to have assembled so many instances and arguments, to adorne the work, had she lived to be witnesse of Margarite Dutchesse of Newcastle, to have read her Writings, and to have heard her discourse of the Science she comprehended: I do, Madame, acknowledge my astonishment, and can hardly think too greate of those soules, who resembling y Grace's, seeme to be as it were wholy separate from matter, and to revolve nothing in their thoughts but universal ideas. For what of sublime and worthy in the nature of things, dos not your Grace comprehend, and explaine ! What of greate and noble that y' illustrious Lord has not adorn❜d, for I must not forget the munificent present of his very usefull book of Horsemanhip-!!

A Letter to Mr. Pepys extends to seventeen pages: it embraces a variety of of topics, comprising hints for a collection of portraits of illustrious men; a vindication and history of Numismatic collections, together with references to the best treatises upon the subject; remarks upon Libraries, public and private ; and an account of the best extant collections: the letter concludes with earnestly recommending the formation of an Academy 'for the polishing' and settling of the English Language, similar to that of La Crusca and others on the Continent. Such an institution was, he says, once designed since the Restoration 1665, and in order to it three or four meetings were begun at Gray's Inn, by Mr. Cowley, Dr. Sprat, Mr. Waller, the D. of Buckingham, Matt. Clifford, Mr. Dryden and some other promoters of it; but by the death of the incomparable Mr. Cowley, distance and inconvenience of the place, the Contagion, and other circumstances intervening, it crumbled away and came to nothing.'-A Letter to Mr. Wotton communicates some valuable biographical details relative to his friend Mr. Boyle. One to Lord Godolphin contains, among other projects, the recommendation of a Council of Trade, to whom he proposes that the care of the Manufactures of the kingdom should likewise be committed, with stock for the employment of the

• Poor;