Thus the world goes; and thinks this enough to poise the other. That worships men in place, and those only, and thinks all a great man speaks oracles. Much taken with my lord's jest, and repeats you it all to a syllable. One that justifies nothing out of fashion, nor any opinion out of the applauded way. That thinks certainly all Spaniards and Jesuits very villains, and is still cursing the Pope and Spinola. One that thinks the gravest cassock the best scholar and the best clothes the finest man. That is taken only with broad and obscene wit, and hisses any thing too deep for him. That cries Chaucer for his money above all our English poets, because the voice has gone so, and he has read none. That is much ravisht with such a noble man's courtesy, and would venture his life for him, because he put off his hat. One that is foremost still to kiss the King's hand, and cries "God bless his Majesty" loudest. That rails on all men condemned and out of favour, and the first that says, Away with the traitors: yet struck with much ruth at executions, and for pity to see a man die, could kill the hangman. That comes to London to see it, and the pretty things in it, and the chief cause of his journey the bears that measures the happiness of the kingdom by the cheapness of corn; and conceives no harm of state, but ill trading. Within this compass, too, come those that are too much wedged into the world, and have no lifting thoughts above those things that call to thrive, to do well, and preferment only the grace of God. That aim all studies at this mark, and show you poor scholars as an example to take heed by. That think the prison and want, a judgment for some sin, and never like well hereafter of a jail-bird. That know no other content but wealth, bravery, and the town-pleasures; that think all else but idle speculation, and the philosophers mad-men: in short, men that are carried away with all outwardnesses, shows, appearances, the stream, the people; for there is no man of worth but has a piece of singularity, and scorns something.

(From the Same.)

OWEN FELLTHAM

[Owen Felltham was born early in the seventeenth century. Very little is known of his history, even the dates of his birth and death are uncertain. He was the son of one Thomas Felltham of Suffolk, gent., and it is inferred was attached to the household of the Earl of Thomond. He appears to have been happily married. He seems to have had a liberal education, and to have been possessed of means. He is supposed to have died about 1677.]

THE most celebrated of the writings of Owen Felltham is his little volume of Resolves, divine, moral, and political. In addition to this he wrote a Brief character of the Low Countries under the States, some lay sermons or Practical Reflections on certain Scripture texts; poems, and letters.

Part of the Resolves was written in his nineteenth year. It is uncertain when the little book first made its appearance; the earliest edition we possess is the second, published in 1628, and it is supposed that the first had appeared some two years previously.

Each essay or resolve is
Like most of his learned

Felltham writes pleasantly and well. well turned, and in itself a work of art. contemporaries he adorns his pages with classical allusions and quotations, but not oppressively so. He was censured for not giving his references. He defended himself against this charge somewhat curiously, saying that he did not profess to be a scholar, and for a gentleman he held such accuracy “a little pedantical.”

His metaphors and analogies are for the most part felicitous. He does not labour after effect, but writes with the easy grace of a refined, but not profound, student of literature.

The Resolves may be best described as satires. They are temperate, judicial, wise. There is no ardent enthusiasm, but considerable earnestness and good sense in Felltham's writings. His style is easy without being colloquial; dignified without being stilted. It is that of an amiable, pious, sensible man of the

world, who aimed at as much virtue as was conveniently practicable; and who, without affecting to be a saint, patiently endeavoured not to be too much of a sinner.

His sentences are never lengthy nor involved, and always perfectly intelligible. There is no loftiness of diction, neither is there any attractive homeliness. Sustained, harmonious, dignified, he inspires our respect, if he does not win our love.

A shrewd and graceful humour, seldom wandering into coarseness, distinguishes his writings, notably his Brief Character of the

Low Countries.

Ignorant as we are of his whole life, ignorant even of the dates of his entering and leaving the world, we yet feel as we close this book of his Resolves, written primarily for his own guidance, and modestly offered to the world, on the chance of possibly helping others, that we know and like the man with his quiet, sensible spirit, and earnest gentlemanlike utterance.

A. I. FITZROY.

A FRIEND AND ENEMY, WHEN MOST DANGEROUS

I WILL take heed both of a speedy friend and a slow enemy. Love is never lasting which flames before it burns; and hate, like wetted coals, throws a fiercer heat when fire gets the mastery. As quick wits have seldom sound judgments which should make them continue: so friendship kindled suddenly is rarely found to consist with the durability of affection. Enduring love is ever built on virtue, which no man can see in another at once. He that fixes upon her shall find a beauty which will every day take him with some new grace or other. I like that love which, by a soft ascension, by degrees possesses itself of the soul. As for an enemy who is long a making, he is much the worse for being ill no sooner. He hates not without cause who

is unwilling to hate at all.

(From Resolves, Divine, Moral, and Political.)

OF PREACHING

THE defect of preaching has made the pulpit slighted; I mean the much bad oratory we find come from it. It is a wonder to me how men can preach so little, and so long: so long a time, and so little matter; as if they thought to please by the inculcation of their vain tautologies. I see no reason why so high a princess as divinity is should be presented to the people in the sordid rags of the tongue; nor that he who speaks from the Father of Languages should deliver his embassage in an ill one. A man can never speak too well while he speaks not obscurely. Long and diffusive sentences are both tedious to the ear and difficult to retain. A sentence well couched takes both the senses and the understanding.

I love not those cart-rope speeches.

which are longer than the memory of man can fathom. I see not but that divinity, put into apt significants, might ravish as well as poetry. They are sermons but of baser metal, which lead the eyes to slumber. He answered well that, after often asking, said still, that action was the chief part of an orator. Surely that oration is most powerful where the tongue is eloquent, and speaks in a native decency, even in every limb. A good orator should pierce the ear, allure the eye, and invade the mind of his hearer. And this is Seneca's opinion: fit words are better than fine ones : I like not those which are injudiciously employed; but such as are expressively pertinent, which lead the mind to something beside the naked term. And he that speaks thus must not look to speak thus every day. A kembed oration will cost both labour and the rubbing of the brain. And kembed I wish it, not frizzled nor curled. Divinity should not be wanton. Harmless jests I like well; but they are fitter for the tavern than the majesty of the temple. Christ taught the people with authority. Gravity becomes the pulpit. I admire the valour of some men who, before their studies, dare ascend the pulpit; and do there take more pains than they have done in their library. But having done this, I wonder not that they there spend sometimes three hours, only to weary the people into sleep. And this makes some such fugitive divines that, like cowards, they run away from their text. Words are not all, nor is matter all, nor gesture; yet, together they are. It is very moving in an orator when the soul seems to speak as well as the tongue. St. Augustin says, Tully was admired more for his tongue than his mind; Aristotle more for his mind than his tongue: but Plato for both. And surely nothing is more necessary in an oration, than a judgment able well to conceive and utter. I know God hath chosen by weak things to confound the wise: yet I see not but, in all times, attention has been paid to language. And even the Scriptures (though not the Hebrew) I believe are penned in a tongue of deep expression, wherein almost every word has a metaphorical sense, which illustrates by some allusion. How political is Moses in his Pentateuch! How philosophical Job! How massy and sententious is Solomon in his proverbs! how grave and solemn in his Ecclesiastes; that in the world, there is not such another dissection of the world as it! How were the Jews astonished at Christ's doctrine ! How eloquent a pleader is Paul at the bar; in disputation how subtle! And he who reads the Fathers shall