faculties of his mind weak or useless.' It is said that Angling and temperance were great causes of these blessings. And I wish the like to all that imitate him, and love the memory of so good a man.

My next and last example shall be that undervaluer of money, the late provost of Eton College, Sir Henry Wotton, (a man with whom I have often fished and conversed,) a man whose foreign employments in the service of this nation, and whose experience, learning, wit, and cheerfulness, made his company to be esteemed one of the delights of mankind. This man, whose very approbation of Angling were sufficient to convince any modest censurer of it, this man was also a most dear lover, and a frequent practiser of the art of Angling; of which he would say, 'it was an employment for his idle time, which was not then idly spent;' for 'Angling was, after tedious study, a rest to his mind, a cheerer of his spirits, a diverter of sadness, a calmer of unquiet thoughts, a moderator of passions, a procurer of contentedness;' and 'that it begat habits of peace and patience in those that professed and practised it.' Indeed, my friend, you will find Angling to be like the virtue of Humility, which has a calmness of spirit, and a world of other blessings attending upon it. Sir, this was the saying of that learned man.-The Complete Angler.

2. The Life of Richard Hooker.

As soon as he was perfectly recovered from his sickness, he took a journey from Oxford to Exeter, to satisfy and see his good mother, being accompanied with a countryman and companion of his own College, and both on foot; which was then either more in fashion, or want of money or their humility made it so: But on foot they went, and took

Salisbury in their way, purposely to see the good Bishop, who made Mr. Hooker and his companion dine with him at his own table; which Mr. Hooker boasted of with much joy and gratitude when he saw his mother and friends and at the Bishop's parting with him, the Bishop gave him good counsel, and his benediction, but forgot to give him money"; which when the Bishop had considered, he sent a servant in all haste to call Richard back to him; and at Richard's return the Bishop said to him, 'Richard, I sent for you back to lend you a horse which hath carried me many a mile, and, I thank God, with much ease;' and presently delivered into his hand a walking-staff, with which he professed he had travelled through many parts of Germany. And he said, 'Richard, I do not give, but lend you my horse; be sure you be honest, and bring my horse back to me at your return this way to Oxford. And I do now give you ten groats, to bear your charges to Exeter; and here is ten groats more, which I charge you to deliver to your mother, and tell her, I send her a Bishop's benediction with it, and beg the continuance of her prayers for me. And if you bring my horse back to me, I will give you ten groats more, to carry you on foot to the College: and so God bless you, good Richard.'

And this, you may believe, was performed by both parties. But alas! the next news that followed Mr. Hooker to Oxford was, that his learned and charitable patron had changed this for a better life. Which may be believed, for as he lived, so he died, in devout meditation and prayer; and in both so zealously, that it became a religious question, 'Whether his last ejaculations or his soul did first enter heaven?'

And now Mr. Hooker became a man of sorrow and fear of sorrow, for the loss of so dear and comfortable a patron; and of fear for his future subsistence, But Mr. Cole raised

his spirits from this dejection, by bidding him go cheerfully to his studies, and assuring him, that he should neither want food nor raiment (which was the utmost of his hopes), for he would become his patron.

And so he was for about nine months, or not much longer; for about that time the following accident did befal Mr. Hooker.

Edwin Sandys (then Bishop of London, and after Archbishop of York) had also been in the days of Queen Mary forced, by forsaking this, to seek safety in another nation; where, for many years, Bishop Jewel and he were companions at bed and board in Germany; and where, in this their exile, they did often eat the bread of sorrow, and by that means they there began such a friendship, as time did not blot out, but lasted till the death of Bishop Jewel, which was in 1571. A little before which time the two Bishops meeting, Jewel began a story of his Richard Hooker, and in it gave such a character of his learning and manners, that though Bishop Sandys was educated in Cambridge, where he had obliged, and had many friends; yet his resolution was, that his son Edwin should be sent to Corpus Christi College in Oxford, and by all means be pupil to Mr. Hooker, though his son Edwin was then almost of the same age: For the Bishop said, 'I will have a tutor for my son, that shall teach him learning by instruction, and virtue by example; and my greatest care shall be of the last; and (God willing) this Richard Hooker shall be the man into whose hands I will commit my Edwin.' And the Bishop did so about twelve months after this resolution.

And doubtless, as to these two, a better choice could not be made; for Mr. Hooker was now in the nineteenth year of his age; had spent five in the University; and had, by a constant unwearied diligence, attained unto a perfection in

all the learned languages; by the help of which, an excellent tutor, and his unintermitted study, he had made the subtilty of all the arts easy and familiar to himself, and useful for the discovery of such learning as lay hid from common searchers. So that by these, added to his great reason, and his industry added to both, he did not only know more of causes and effects; but what he knew he knew better than other men. And with this knowledge he had a most blessed and clear method of demonstrating what he knew, to the great advantage of all his pupils (which in time were many), but especially to his two first, his dear Edwin Sandys, and his as dear George Cranmer: of which there will be a fair testimony in the ensuing relation.

This for his learning. And for his behaviour, amongst other testimonies, this still remains of him, that in four years. he was but twice absent from the chapel prayers; and that his behaviour there was such as showed an awful reverence of that God which he then worshipped and prayed to; giving all outward testimonies, that his affections were set on heavenly things. This was his behaviour towards God; and for that to man, it is observable, that he was never known to be angry, or passionate, or extreme in any of his desires; never heard to repine or dispute with Providence, but, by a quiet gentle submission and resignation of his will to the wisdom of his Creator, bore the burthen of the day with patience; never heard to utter an uncomely word: And by this, and a grave behaviour, which is a divine charm, he begot an early reverence unto his person, even from those that at other times and in other companies, took a liberty to cast off that strictness of behaviour and discourse that is required in a collegiate life. And when he took any liberty to be pleasant, his wit was never blemished with scoffing, or the utterance of any conceit that bordered upon or might

beget a thought of looseness in his hearers. Thus innocent and exemplary was his behaviour in his College; and thus this good man continued till death; still increasing in learning, in patience, and in piety.-Life of Hooker.

3. A Quiet Scene.

BUT turn out of the way a little, good scholar, towards yonder high honeysuckle hedge; there we'll sit and sing whilst this shower falls so gently upon the teeming earth, and gives yet a sweeter smell to the lovely flowers that adorn these verdant meadows.

Look, under that broad beech-tree, I sat down, when I was last this way a-fishing, and the birds in the adjoining grove seemed to have a friendly contention with an echo, whose dead voice seemed to live in a hollow tree, near to the brow of that primrose-hill; there I sat viewing the silver streams glide silently towards their centre, the tempestuous sea; yet sometimes opposed by rugged roots, and pebble-stones, which broke their waves, and turned them into foam and sometimes I beguiled time by viewing the harmless lambs, some leaping securely in the cool shade, whilst others sported themselves in the cheerful sun; and saw others craving comfort from the swollen udders of their bleating dams. As I thus sat, these and other sights had so fully possessed my soul with content, that I thought as the poet hath happily expressed it:

I was for that time lifted above earth;

And possess'd joys not promis'd in my birth.

The Complete Angler.

4. Marriage of Dr. Donne.

THESE promises were only known to themselves: and the friends of both parties used much diligence, and many