When he transferred his shop from Cornhill to Fleet Street, he became an inhabitant of St Dunstan's, and one of Dr Donne's parishioners.

These exquisite biographies are above all praise, unless it be such praise as Wordsworth's :—

"There are no colours in the fairest sky,

So fair as these; the feather whence the pen
Was shaped, that traced the lives of these good men,
Dropped from an angel's wing: with moistened eye,
We read of faith, and purest charity,

In statesman, priest, and humble citizen.
Oh! could we copy their mild virtues then,
What joy to live, what blessedness to die!
Methinks their very names shine still and bright;
Apart-like glow-worms on a summer night;
Or, lonely tapers, when from far they fling
A guiding ray; or seen-like stars on high,
Satellites burning in a lucid ring

Around meek Walton's heavenly memory."

The life of Bishop Sanderson was the last which Walton wrote. It concludes with these touching words: ""Tis now too late to wish that my life may be like his; for I am in the eighty-fifth year of my age: but I humbly beseech Almighty God, that my death may; and do as earnestly beg of every reader to say, Amen." Our extract will shew how green was his old age, and how fresh to the last his faculty of relating a story. The passage on Thankfulness is taken from "The Angler."

Walton died in the house of one of the prebendaries of Winchester, "in the great frost," December 15, 1683, and was buried in the cathedral.

The Country Parson.

Being now resolved to set down his rest in a quiet privacy at Boothby Pannell, and looking back with some sadness upon

his removal from his general acquaintance left in Oxford, and the peculiar pleasures of a University life, he could not but think the want of society would render this of a country parson the more uncomfortable, by reason of that want of conversation; and therefore he did put on some faint purposes to marry. For he had considered, that though marriage be cumbered with more worldly care than a single life; yet a complying and a prudent wife changes those very cares into so mutual a content, as makes them become like the sufferings of St Paul (Col. i. 24), which he would not have wanted because they occasioned his rejoicing in them. And he, having well considered this, and observed the secret, unutterable joys that children beget in parents, and the mutual pleasures and contented trouble of their daily care, and constant endeavours to bring up those little images of themselves, so as to make them as happy as all those cares and endeavours can make them: he having considered all this, the hopes of such happiness turned his faint purposes into a positive resolution to marry. And he was so happy as to obtain Anne, the daughter of Henry Nelson, bachelor in divinity, then rector of Haugham, in the county of Lincoln, a man of noted worth and learning. And the Giver of all good things was so good to him as to give him such a wife as was suitable to his own desires; a wife, that made his life happy by being always content when he was cheerful; that divided her joys with him, and abated of his sorrow, by bearing a part of that burden; a wife, that demonstrated her affection by a cheerful obedience to all his desires, during the whole course of his life, and at his death too, for she outlived him.

And in this Boothby Pannel, he either found or made his parishioners peaceable, and complying with him in the decent and regular service of God. And thus his parish, his patron, and he lived together in a religious love, and a contented quietness; he not troubling their thoughts by preaching high and

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useless notions, but such plain truths as were necessary to be known, believed, and practised, in order to their salvation. And their assent to what he taught was testified by such a conformity to his doctrine, as declared they believed and loved him. For he would often say, that, without the last, the most evident truths—heard as from an enemy, or an evil liver— either are not, or are at least the less effectual, and do usually rather harden than convince the hearer.

And this excellent man did not think his duty discharged by only reading the Church prayers, catechising, preaching, and administering the sacraments seasonably; but thought—if the law or the canons may seem to enjoin no more—yet that God would require more than the defective laws of man's making can or do enjoin; the performance of that inward law, which Almighty God hath imprinted in the conscience of all good Christians, and inclines those whom He loves to perform. He, considering this, did therefore become a law to himself, practising what his conscience told him was his duty, in reconciling differences, and preventing lawsuits, both in his parish and in the neighbourhood. To which may be added, his often visiting sick and disconsolate families, persuading them to patience, and raising them from dejection by his advice and cheerful discourse, and by adding his own alms, if there were any so poor as to need it; considering how acceptable it is to Almighty God, when we do as we are advised by St Paul (Gal. vi. 2),

Help to bear one another's burden," either of sorrow or want; and what a comfort it will be, when the Searcher of all hearts shall call us to a strict account for that evil we have done, and the good we have omitted, to remember we have comforted and been helpful to a dejected or distressed family.

And that his practice was to do good, one example may be, that he met with a poor dejected neighbour, that complained he had taken a meadow, the rent of which was £9 a-year; and when the hay was made ready to be carried into his barn, seve

ral days' constant rain had so raised the water, that a sudden flood carried all away, and his rich landlord would bate him no rent; and that unless he had half abated, he and seven children were utterly undone. It may be noted, that in this age there are a sort of people so unlike the God of Mercy, so void of the bowels of pity, that they love only themselves and children: love them so, as not to be concerned whether the rest of mankind waste their days in sorrow or shame; people that are cursed with riches, and a mistake that nothing but riches can make them and their's happy. But it was not so with Dr Sanderson; for he was concerned, and spoke comfortably to the poor dejected man; bade him go home and pray, and not load himself with sorrow, for he would go to his landlord next morning; and if his landlord would not abate what he desired, he and a friend would pay it for him.

To the landlord he went the next day; and, in a conference, the Doctor presented to him the sad condition of his poor dejected tenant; telling him how much God is pleased when men compassionate the poor, and told him, that though God loves sacrifice, yet He loves mercy so much better, that He is pleased when called the God of Mercy. And told him, the riches he was possessed of were given him by that God of Mercy, who would not be pleased if he, that had so much given, yea, and forgiven him too, should prove like the rich steward in the gospel, that took his fellow-servant by the throat to make him pay the utmost farthing. This he told him: and told him, that the law of this nation-by which law he claims his rent -does not undertake to make men honest or merciful; but does what it can to restrain men from being dishonest or unmerciful, and yet was defective in both; and that taking any rent from his poor tenant, for what God suffered him not to enjoy, though the law allowed him to do so, yet if he did so, he was too like that rich steward which he had mentioned to him; and told him that riches so gotten, and added to his

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great estate, would, as Job says, prove like gravel in his teeth: would in time so corrode his conscience, or become so nauseous when he lay upon his death-bed, that he would then labour to vomit it up, and not be able; and therefore advised him, being very rich, to make friends of his unrighteous mammon, before that evil day come upon him; but, however, neither for his own sake, nor for God's sake, to take any rent of his poor, dejected, sad tenant; for that were to gain a temporal, and lose his eternal happiness. These, and other such reasons were urged with so grave and compassionate an earnestness, that the landlord forgave his tenant the whole rent.

The reader will easily believe that Dr Sanderson, who was so meek and merciful, did suddenly and gladly carry this comfortable news to the dejected tenant; and we believe, that at the telling of it there was a mutual rejoicing. It was one of Job's boasts, "that he had seen none perish for want of clothing; and that he had often made the heart of the widow to rejoice" (Job xxxi. 19). And doubtless Dr Sanderson might have made the same religious boast of this, and very many like occasions. But, since he did not, I rejoice that I have this just occasion to do it for him; and that I can tell the reader, I might tire myself and him, in telling how like the whole course of Dr Sanderson's life was to this which I have now related.

A Thankful Spirit.

Well, scholar, having now taught you to paint your rod, and we having still a mile to Tottenham High Cross, I will, as we walk towards it in the cool shade of this sweet honeysuckle hedge, mention to you some of the thoughts and joys that have possessed my soul since we met together. And these thoughts shall be told you, that you also may join with me in thankfulness to the Giver of every good and perfect gift for our happiness. And that our present happiness may ap