the works of the most distinguished men ; so from their works we find the law governing their lives. There is evidence sufficient to show that it was so in the most lofty instances, but we content ourselves with citations from the inferior names. The life of John Horne Tooke may be selected from hundreds of instances as illustrative of this daring, in the very highest degree; bold, it might be thought to rashness. It is surprising how that great man held the fervid passions of his intellect in mastery and control; his vehemence of spirit, his reckless insolence of demeanour, were all in fact the result of premeditation; were all arranged to produce the results which in fact they did produce. The history of English jurisprudence and legislation does not furnish another instance so remarkable, as that which led eventually to his change of name.

Mr. Tooke, a gentleman of moderate wealth, a political friend, sought the advice of John Horne, 1n a case which appeared desperate, in consequence of the purchase of an estate, called Purley, from whence the great philological work derived its name. His friend was involved in a vexatious litigation, about manorial rights, with a neighbouring gentleman of great wealth and influence, who had betaken himself to the last expedient, an Act of Parliament. That day was the palmy age

of English corruption; and the bill had been hurried through two readings; the third reading would receive the final sanction of the House of Commons; and on the day previous to that reading, Mr. Tooke stated his case mournfully and despairingly to John Horne. "If the facts be as you represent them, the House shall not pass that bill;" this was the reply. He was not a Member of the House, and it sounds little short of insanity, from a man, who was only known to the government of the day, to be hated by it. Yet he, a private scholar, living in quietude and retirement, sprung like a tiger, forward, and arrested the progress of the bill. He immediately addressed a letter, most pointedly offensive, to the Speaker of the House of Commons, and caused it to be inserted in the newspaper, rendered so popular, by the insertion of the letters of Junius, on condition, that when the printer was called up, he should, of course, disclose the author's name. His object was, that, thus the House should be compelled to give a more formal attention to the bill, as well as to direct the attention of the country, to the mode of transacting business in the House; and thus he was confident he should frustrate the measure, willing to take the consequences upon himself. The sensation was great upon the day after the appearance of the letter. All the business of the House

was suspended, to enquire into the flagrant outrage upon its dignity; "a dignity so vulnerable, by a plain charge of misconduct, though it had not been injured, in the least, by the misconduct of itself." The printer was called before the House; he came, and instantly gave up the name of the criminal, who had taken care, to be already in the House, prepared to confront, probably, with very little trepidation, the whole anger of the august assembly; and there disavowing all the respect to the Speaker, whom he had libelled. He calmly explained the motives of the proceeding, and poured a luminous explanation over the assembly, in reference to the case of his friend. The obnoxious bill was immediately thrown out, and several resolutions passed, to prevent such precipitate proceedings for the future. Horne escaped with a nominal punishment.

Now, this is one of the most extraordinary illustrations of method and design in human conduct. Here every part of the plan was laid, and the mental eye saw all, and noted the consequences of each movement. But how extraordinary must have been the mental discipline of that character, that could so instantly have arranged all its plans and designs. In this anecdote the whole biography of the man seems to stand revealed to us. Daring, yet without rashness; resolute, and yet

so unscrupulously flexible, in order that the end might be gained.

John Horne Tooke is by no means our picture of a normal man; but his life was as truly mapped out to himself as the life of many a more extraordinary man. He knew, if any man ever knew, how to captain and command his ideas; he marshalled them to his will, and this is the prominent characteristic of the methodic intellect. Some men's ideas lie all before them-they see them at a glance; the ideas of other men come trailing after them they see what should have been used when the opportunity for use has gone by. Such men can never be the avant couriers of thought; they might more appropriately be called the baggage-waggon.

Johnson is always thought of as a contrast to Goldsmith. His was a most methodic life. In the prosecution of that most stupendous work, his "Dictionary," he was fully sensible of the difficulties before him, and nobly conscious of his own abilities. When Dr. Adams found him busy upon it one day, he said to him, "This is a great work, sir. How are you to get all the etymologies?" "Why, sir," said Johnson, "here is a shelf with Junius and Skinner, and others; and there is a Welch gentleman, who has published a collection of Welch proverbs, who will help me in the Welch."

'But," said Adams, "how can you do this in three years?"

"Sir, I have no doubt I can do it in three years.'

"But," continued Adams, "the French Academy Union, consisting of forty members, took forty years to complete their 'Dictionary.""

"Sir," replied Johnson, "thus it is this is the proportion-Let me see, forty times forty is sixteen hundred. As three to sixteen hundred, so is the proportion of an Englishman to a Frenchman." And Johnson was not a boaster. A gruff but

real man.

His life was passed beneath the influence of great and presiding duties. Many of those duties, it may be, were grave prejudices; but the world has seldom had a firmer, more faithful, and more loving heart to bless it than that of old Samuel Johnson. All his writings are little, compared with his life—that was great. Nobody feels much the reality of the "Rambler," or of "Rasselas," still less do we care about " Irene," or the "Poems." But Johnson, carrying the victim of disease and dissipation on his back through Fleetstreet-Johnson quitting the society of Garrick and his actresses, and the reason he assigned for it-Johnson by the death-bed side of Catharine Chambers-these are the situations in which we like to see him. So also the graphic little incident mentioned by Boswell.