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[Thoughts on Various Subjects.]
Every man desireth to live long, but no man would
be old. We have just religion enough to make us hate, but If books and laws continue to increase as they have not enough to make us love one another.
done for fifty years past, I am in some concern for When we desire or solicit anything, our minds run future ages, how any man will be learned, or any man wholly on the good side or circumstances of it; when a lawyer. it is obtained, our mind runs only on the bad ones. | A nice man is a man of nasty ideas. (How true of
When a true genius appeareth in the world, you Swift himself !) may know him by this infallible sign, that the dunces If a man maketh me keep my distance, the comfort are all in confederacy against him.
is, he keepeth his at the same time. I am apt to think that, in the day of judgment, Very few men, properly speaking, live at present, there will be small allowance given to the wise for but are providing to live another time. their want of morals, or to the ignorant for their want | Praise is the daughter of present power. of faith, because both are without excuse. This Princes in their infancy, childhood, and youth, are renders the advantages equal of ignorance and know- said to discover prodigious parts and wit, to speak ledge. But some scruples in the wise, and some vices things that surprise and astonish: strange, so many in the ignorant, will perhaps be forgiven upon the hopeful princes, so many shameful kings! If they strength of temptation to each.
happen to die young, they would have been prodigies It is pleasant to observe how free the present age is of wisdom and virtue: if they live, they are often proin laying taxes on the next : Future ages shall talk digies indeed, but of another sort. of this; this shall be famous to all posterity :' whereas The humour of exploding many things under the their time and thoughts will be taken up about pre- name of trifles, fopperies, and only imaginary goods, sent things, as ours are now.
is a very false proof either of wisdom or magnanimity, It is in disputes as in armies, where the weaker side and a great check to virtuous actions. For instance, setteth up false lights, and maketh a great noise, that with regard to fame; there is in most people a relucthe enemy may believe them to be more numerous tance and unwillingness to be forgotten. We observe, and strong than they really are.
even among the vulgar, how fond they are to have an I have known some men possessed of good qualities, inscription over their grave. It requireth but little which were very serviceable to others, but useless to | philosophy to discover and observe that there is no themselves; like a sun-dial on the front of a house, to intrinsic value in all this; however, if it be founded inform the neighbours and passengers, but not the in our nature, as an incitement to virtue, it ought not owner within.
to be ridiculed. If a man would register all his opinions upon love, politics, religion, learning, &c., beginning from his [Overstrained Politeness, or Vulgar Hospitality.] youth, and so go on to old age, what a bundle of incon
[From "The Tatler.'] sistencies and contradictions would appear at last !
The stoical scheme of supplying our wants by lop- Those inferior duties of life which the French call ping off our desires, is like cutting off our feet when les petites morales, or the smaller morals, are with us we want shoes.
distinguished by the name of good manners or breed. The reason why so few marriages are happy, is being. This I look upon, in the general notion of it, to cause young ladies spend their time in making nets, be a sort of artificial good sense, adapted to the meannot in making cages.
est capacities, and introduced to make mankind easy The power of fortune is confessed only by the miser in their commerce with each other. Low and little able, for the happy impute all their success to pru- understandings, without some rules of this kind, would dence and merit.
be perpetually wandering into a thousand indecencies Ambition often puts men upon doing the meanest and irregularities in behaviour; and in their ordinary offices : so, climbing is performed in the same posture conversation, fall into the same boisterous familiarities with creeping.
that one observeth amongst them when a debauch Censure is the tax a man payeth to the public for hath quite taken away the use of their reason. In being eminent.
other instances, it is odd to consider, that for want of No wise man ever wished to be younger.
common discretion, the very end of good breeding is An idle reason lessens the weight of the good ones wholly perverted; and civility, intended to make us you gave before.
easy, is employed in laying chains and fetters upon Complaint is the largest tribute heaven receives, us, in debarring us of our wishes, and in crossing our and the sincerest part of our devotion.
most reasonable desires and inclinations. This abuse The common fluency of speech in many men and reigneth chiefly in the country, as I found to my rexamost women, is owing to a scarcity of matter and tion, when I was last there, in a visit I made to a scarcity of words: for whoever is a master of language, neighbour about two miles from my cousin. As soon and hath a mind full of ideas, will be apt, in speak | as I entered the parlour, they put me into the great ing, to hesitate upon the choice of both; whereas chair that stood close by a huge fire, and kept me common speakers have only one set of ideas, and one there by force, until I was almost stifled. Then a boy set of words to clothe them in, and these are always came in great hurry to pull off my boots, which I in ready at the mouth. So people come faster out of a vain opposed, urging, that I must return soon after church when it is almost empty, than when a crowd dinner. In the meantime, the good lady whispered is at the door.
her eldest daughter, and slipped a key into her hand. To be vain is rather a mark of humility than pride. The girl returned instantly with a beer-glass half full Vain men delight in telling what honours have been of aqua mirabilis and syrup of gilly-flowers. I took done them, what great company they have kept, and as much as I had a mind for ; but madam rowed I the like; by which they plainly confess that these should drink it off (for she was sure it would do me honours were more than their due, and such as their good, after coming out of the cold air), and I was forced friends would not believe if they had not been told : to obey ; which absolutely took away my stomach. whereas a man truly proud thinks the greatest honours When dinner came in, I had a mind to sit at a disbelow his merit, and consequently scorns to boast. Itance from the fire ; but they told me it was as much therefore deliver it as a maxim, that whoever desires as my life was worth, and set me with my back just the character of a proud man, ought to conceal his against it. Although my appetite were quite gone, I vanity.
resolved to force down as much as I could; and de
sired the leg of a pullet. Indeed, Mr Bickerstaff, says | public. "Pope's epistolary excellence,' says Johnson, the lady, you must eat a wing to oblige me; and so had an open field; he had no English rival, living put a couple upon my plate. I was persecuted at this or dead.' The letters of Lord Bacon, Strafford, and rate during the whole meal. As often as I called for other statesmen, had been published, but they desmall beer, the master tipped the wink, and the servant scended little into the details of familiar life. Sprat brought me a brimmer of October. Some time after suppressed the correspondence of Cowley, under the dinner, I ordered my cousin's man, who came with me, impression, finely expressed by an old writer, that to get ready the horses, but it was resolved I should private letters are commonly of too tender a componot stir that night; and when I seemed pretty much sition to thrive out of the bosom in which they were bent upon going, they ordered the stable door to be first planted ; and the correspondence of Pope was locked; and the children hid my cloak and boots. the first attempt to interest the public in the sentiThe next question was, what I would have for supper? | ments and opinions of literary men, and the expresI said I never eat anything at night; but was at last, sion of private friendship. As literature was the in my own defence, obliged to name the first thing that business of Pope's life, and composition his first and came into my head. After three hours spent chiefly favourite pursuit, he wrote always with a view to in apologies for my entertainment, insinuating to me, I admiration and fame. He knew that if his letters "That this was the worst time of the year for provi to his friends did not come before the public in a sions; that they were at a great distance from any printed shape they would be privately circulated. market; that they were afraid I should be starved ;
and might affect his reputation with those he was and that they knew they kept me to my loss,' the
ambitious of pleasing. Hence he seems always to lady went and left me to her husband (for they took have written with care. His letters are generally too special care I should never be alone). As soon as her
elaborate and artificial to have been the spontaneous back was turned, the little misses ran backwards and
effusions of private confidence. Many of them are forwards every moment; and constantly as they came
beautiful in thought and imagery, and evince a taste in or went out, made a curtsy directly at me, which
for picturesque scenery and description, that it is to in good manners I was forced to return with a bow,
be regretted the poet did not oftener indulge. Others, and, your humble servant, pretty Miss. Exactly at
as the exquisite one describing a journey to Oxford, eight the mother came up, and discovered by the red
in company with Bernard Lintot, possess a fine vein ness of her face that supper was not far off. It was
of comic humour and observation. Swift was infetwice as large as the dinner, and my persecution
rior to Pope as a letter-writer, but he discloses more doubled in proportion. I desired at my usual hour
of his real character. He loved Pope as much as he to go to my repose, and was conducted to my chamber
could any man, and the picture of their friendship, by the gentleman, his lady, and the whole train of
disclosed in their correspondence, is honourable to children. They importuned me to drink something
both. They had both risen to eminence by their before I went to bed ; and upon my refusing, at last
own talents; they had mingled with the great and left a bottle of stingo, as they called it, for fear I should wake and be thirsty in the night. I was forced in the
illustrious; had exchanged with each other in primorning to rise and dress myself in the dark, because
vate their common feelings and sentiments ; had par
taken of the vicissitudes of public affairs ; seen their they would not suffer my kinsman's servant to disturb
friends decay and die off; and in their old age, me at the hour I desired to be called. I was now resolved to break through all measures to get away;
mourned over the evils and afflictions incident to the and after sitting down to a monstrous breakfast of
decline of life. Pope's affection soothed the jealous cold beef, mutton, neats’-tongues, venison-pasty, and
irritability and misanthropy of Swift, and survived stale beer, took leave of the family. But the gentle
the melancholy calamity which rendered his friend man would needs see me part of my way, and carry
one of the most pitiable and affecting objects among me a short cut through his own grounds, which he
mankind. told me would save half a mile's riding. This last piece of civility had like to have cost me dear, being
[On Sickness and Death.] once or twice in danger of my neck, by leaping over his ditches, and at last forced to alight in the dirt;
To Sir Richard STEELE.-July 15, 1712. when my horse, having slipped his bridle, ran away,
You formerly observed to me that nothing made and took us up more than an hour to recover him
| a more ridiculous figure in a man's life than the disagain. It is evident, that none of the absurdities I
I parity we often find in him sick and well ; thus one met with in this visit proceeded from an ill intention,
1, of an unfortunate constitution is perpetually exhibitbut from a wrong judgment of complaisance, and a
ing a miserable example of the weakness of his mind, misapplication in the rules of it.
and of his body, in their turns. I have had frequent opportunities of late to consider myself in these diffe
rent views, and, I hope, have received some advanALEXANDER POPE.
tage by it, if what Waller says be true, that In 1737 Pope published, by subscription, a volume
The soul's dark cottage, battered and decayed, of letters between himself and his literary friends, including Swift, Bolingbroke, Gay, and Arbuthnot.
Lets in new light through chinks that Time has made. Part of the collection had been previously obtained | Then surely sickness, contributing no less than old by surreptitious means, and printed by Curll, a no- age to the shaking down this scaffolding of the body, torious publisher of that day. Johnson and Warton may discover the inward structure more plainly. conceived that Pope had connived at this breach of sickness is a sort of early old age; it teaches us a private confidence; but it has been satisfactorily diffidence in our earthly state, and inspires us with shown that the poet was ignorant of the publication, the thoughts of a future, better than a thousand and that his indignation on discovering it was ex- volumes of philosophers and divines. It gives so pressed with all the warmth of sincerity. The letters warning a concussion to those props of our vanity, our excited the curiosity of the public; and Pope com- strength and youth, that we think of fortifying ourplied with the general intreaty to give a genuine selves within, when there is so little dependence upon edition of his correspondence. Additions were after our out-works. Youth at the very best is but a bewards made to the collection, which went through trayer of human life in a gentler and smoother manseveral editions. The experiment was new to the ner than age: it is like a stream that nourishes a plant upon a bank, and causes it to flourish and meditations, or even inquiring of your retreat; but blossom to the sight, but at the same time is under-this I will not positively assert, because I never remining it at the root in secret. My youth has dealt ceived any such insulting epistle from you. My Lord more fairly and openly with me; it has afforded Oxford says you have not written to him once since you several prospects of my danger, and given ine an went; but this perhaps may be only policy in him or advantage not very cominon to young men, that the you ! and I, who am half a Whig, must not entirely attractions of the world have not dazzled me very credit anything he affirms. At Button's, it is reported much ; and I begin, where most people end, with a you are gone to Hanover, and that Gay goes only on an full conviction of the emptiness of all sorts of ambi- embassy to you. Others apprehend some dangerous tion, and the unsatisfactory nature of all human plea- state treatise from your retirement; and a wit, who sures. When a smart fit of sickness tells me this affects to imitate Balsac, says, that the ministry now scurvy tenement of my body will fall in a little time, are like those heathens of old, who received their I am even as unconcerned as was that honest Hiber- oracles from the woods. The gentlemen of the Roman nian, who, being in bed in the great storm some years Catholic persuasion are not unwilling to credit me, ago, and told the house would tumble over his head, when I whisper, that you are gone to meet some made answer, 'What care I for the house? I am only Jesuits commissioned from the court of Rome, in a lodger.' I fancy it is the best time to die when one order to settle the most convenient methods to be is in the best humour; and so excessively weak as I taken for the coming of the Pretender. Dr Arbuthnow am, I may say with conscience, that I am not at not is singular in his opinion, and imagines your only all uneasy at the thought that many men, whom I design is to attend at full leisure to the life and ad. never had any esteem for, are likely to enjoy this ventures of Scriblerus. This, indeed, must be granted world after me. When I reflect what an inconsider- of greater importance than all the rest ; and I wish I able little atom every single man is, with respect to could promise so well of you. The top of my own the whole creation, methinks it is a shame to be con- ambition is to contribute to that great work; and I cerned at the removal of such a trivial animal as I shall translate Homer by the by. Mr Gay has acam. The morning after my exit, the sun will rise as quainted you what progress I have made in it. I bright as ever, the flowers smell as sweet, the plants cannot name Mr Gay, without all the acknowledg. spring as green, the world will proceed in its old ments which I shall ever owe you on his account. If course, people will laugh as heartily, and marry as I writ this in verse, I would tell you you are like the fast, as they were used to do.* The memory of man sun, and, while men imagine you to be retired or (as it is elegantly expressed in the Book of Wisdom) absent, are hourly exerting your influence, and bring. passeth away as the remembrance of a guest that ing things to maturity for their advantage. Of all tarrieth but one day. There are reasons enough, in the world, you are the man (without flattery) who the fourth chapter of the same book, to make any serve your friends with the least ostentation; it is young man contented with the prospect of death. almost ingratitude to thank you, considering your
For honourable age is not that which standeth in temper; and this is the period of all my let ter which, length of time, or is measured by number of years. I fear, you will think the most impertinent. I am, But wisdom is the gray hair to man, and an unspotted with the truest affection, yours, &c. life is old age. He was taken away speedily, leet wickedness should alter his understanding, or deceit beguile his soul,' &c.--I am your, &c.
[Pope in Oxford.]
To Mrs Martha BLOUNT.-1716. [Pope to Swift-On his Retirement.]
Nothing could have more of that melancholy which January 18. 1714. once used to please me, than my last day's journey ;
| for, after having passed through my favourite woods Whatever apologies it might become me to make in the forest, with a thousand reveries of past plea- 11 at any other time for writing to you, I shall use none sures, I rid over hanging hills, whose tops were edged now, to a man who has owned himself as splenetic as with groves, and whose feet watered with winding a cat in the country. In that circumstance, I know rivers, listening to the falls of cataracts below, and by experience a letter is a very useful as well as an the murmuring of the winds above; the gloomy ver. amusing thing: if you are too busied in state affairs dure of Stonor succeeded to these, and then the shades to read it, yet you may find entertainment in folding of the evening overtook me. The moon rose in the it into divers figures, either doubling it into a pyra- clearest sky I ever saw, by whose solemn light I paced midical, or twisting it into a serpentine form : or if on slowly, without company, or any interruption to i your disposition should not be so mathematical, in the range of my thoughts. About a mile before I taking it with you to that place where men of studious reached Oxford, all the bells tolled in different notes; minds are apt to sit longer than ordinary ; where, the clocks of every college answered one another, and after an abrupt division of the paper, it may not be sounded forth (some in deeper, some a softer tone) unpleasant to try to fit and rejoin the broken lines that it was eleven at night. "All this was no ill pretogether. All these amusements I am no stranger to paration to the life I have led since among those old in the country, and doubt not (by this time) you walls, venerable galleries, stone porticos, studious || begin to relish them in your present contemplative walks, and solitary scenes of the university. I wanted situation.
nothing but a black gown and a salary, to be as I remember, a man who was thought to have some mere a book-worm as any there. I conformed myself knowledge in the world used to affirm, that no people to the college hours, was rolled up in books, lay in in town ever complained they were forgotten by their one of the most ancient, dusky parts of the university, friends in the country; but my increasing experience and was as dead to the world as any herinit of the convinces me he was mistaken, for I find a great many desert. If anything was alive or awake in me, it was here grievously complaining of you upon this score. a little vanity, such as even those good men used to I am told further, that you treat the few you corre | entertain, when the monks of their own order extolled spond with in a very arrogant style, and tell them their piety and abstraction. For I found myself reyou admire at their insolence in disturbing your ceived with a sort of respect, which this idle part of
mankind, the learned, pay to their own species; who * It is important to remember that Pope, when he wrote in are as considerable here, as the busy, the gay, and this manner, was only twenty-four.
I the ambitious are in your world.
[Pope to Lady Mary Wortley Montagu on the Con- bosom of your country? I hear you are going to tinent.]
Hanover; can there be no favourable planet at this
1717. conjuncture, or do you only come back so far to die Madam-I no more think I can have too many of twice? Is Eurydice once more spatched to the shades? your letters, than that I could have too many writings | If ever mortal had reason to hate the king, it is I; to entitle me to the greatest estate in the world; for it is my misfortune to be almost the only innowhich I think so valuable a friendship as yours is cent man whom he has made to suffer, both by his equal to. I am angry at every scrap of paper lost, as government at home and his negotiations abroad. at something that interrupts the history of my title; and though it is but an odd compliment to compare
[Death of Two Lovers by Lightning.] a fine lady to Sibyl, your leaves, methinks, like hers, are too good to be committed to the winds; though I
To LADY MARY WortleY Montagu.-1718. have no other way of receiving them but by those un # * I have a mind to fill the rest of this paper faithful messengers. I have had but three, and I with an accident that happened just under my eyes, reckon in that short one from Dort, which was rather and has made a great impression upon me. I have & dying ejaculation than & letter. But I have so just passed part of this summer at an old romantic great an opinion of your goodness, that had I re- seat of my Lord Harcourt's, which he lent me.* It ceived none, I should not have accused you of neglect overlooks a common field, where, under the shade of a or insensibility. I am not so wrong-headed as to haycock, sat two lovers, as constant as ever were found quarrel with my friends the moment they don't write; in romance, beneath a spreading beech. The name I'd as soon quarrel at the sun the minute he did not of the one (let it sound as it will) was John Hewet: shine, which he is hindered from by accidental causes, of the other, Sarah Drew. John was a well-set man, and is in reality all that time performing the same about five-and-twenty; Sarah, a brown woman of course, and doing the same good offices as ever. eighteen. John had for several months borne the
You have contrived to say in your last the two labour of the day in the same field with Sarah ; when most pleasing things to me in nature; the first is, she milked, it was his morning and evening charge that whatever be the fate of your letters, you will to bring the cows to her pail. Their love was the continue to write in the discharge of your conscience. talk, but not the scandal, of the whole neighbourThis is generous to the last degree, and a virtue you hood; for all they aimed at was the blameless posought to enjoy. Be assured, in return, my heart shall session of each other in marriage. It was but this very be as ready to think you have done every good thing, morning that he had obtained her parents' consent, as yours can be to do it; so that you shall never be and it was but till the next week that they were to wait able to favour your absent friend, before he has to be happy. Perhaps this very day, in the intervals thought himself obliged to you for the very favour of their work, they were talking of their weddingyou are then conferring.
clothes ; and John was now matching several kinds The other is, the justice you do me in taking what of poppies and field-flowers to her complexion, to I write to you in the serious manner it was meant; it make her a present of knots for the day. While they is the point upon which I can bear no suspicion, and were thus employed (it was on the last of July), a in which, above all, I desire to be thought serious: it terrible storm of thunder and lightning arose, that would be the most vexatious of all tyranny, if you drove the labourers to what shelter the trees or should pretend to take for raillery what is the hedges afforded. Sarah, frightened and out of breath, mere disguise of a discontented heart, that is un- sunk on a haycock, and John (who never separated willing to make you as melancholy as itself; and for from her) sat by her side, having raked two or three wit, what is really only the natural overflowing and heaps together to secure her. Immediately there was warmth of the same heart, as it is improved and heard so loud a crack as if heaven had burst asunder. awakened by an esteem for you: but since you tell The labourers, all solicitous for each other's safety, me you believe me, I fancy my expressions have not called to one another: those that were nearest our at least been entirely unfaithful to those thoughts, lovers hearing no answer, stepped to the place where to which I am sure they can never be equal. May they lay : they first saw a little smoke, and after, God increase your faith in all truths that are as great this faithful pair-John with one arm about his as this! and depend upon it, to whatever degree your Sarah's neck, and the other held over her face, as if belief may extend, you can never be a bigot.
to screen her from the lightning. They were struck If you could see the heart I talk of, you would dead, and already grown stiff and cold in this tender really think it a foolish good kind of thing, with posture. There was no mark or discolouring on their some qualities as well deserving to be half laughed bodies, only that Sarah's eyebrow was a little singed, at, and half esteemed, as any in the world : its grand and a small spot between her breasts. They were foible, in regard to you, is the most like reason of any buried the next day in one grave, where my Lord foible in nature. Upon my faith, this heart is not, Harcourt, at my request, has erected a monument like a great warehouse, stored only with my own over them. Of the following epitaphs which I made, goods, with vast empty spaces to be supplied as fast the critics have chosen the godly one: I like neither, as interest or ambition can fill them up; but it is but wish you had been in England to have done this every inch of it let out into lodgings for its friends, office better: I think it was what you could not have and shall never want a corner at your service; where refused me on so moving an occasion. I dare affirm, madam, your idea lies as warm and as close as any idea in Christendom. * *
When Eastern lovers feed the funeral fire, If this distance (as you are so kind as to say) en
On the same pile their faithful pair expire; larges your belief of my friendship, I assure you it has
Here pitying Heaven that virtue mutual found, so extended my notion of your value, that I begin to
And blasted both that it might neither wound. be impious on your account, and to wish that even
Hearts so sincere the Almighty saw well pleased, slaughter, ruin, and desolation, might interpose be
Sent his own lightning, and the victims seized. tween you and Turkey ; I wish you restored to us at
* The house of Stanton Harcourt in Oxfordshire. Here Pope the expense of a whole people. I barely hope you translated part of the Odyssey. He particularly describes it in will forgive me for saying this, but I fear God will the subsequent letter, in a style which recalls the grave humour scarce forgive me for desiring it.
of Addison, and foreshadows the Bracebridge Hall of WashMake me less wicked, then. Is there no other ex- ington Irving. A view of the house and of the church beside pedient to return you and your infant in peace to the which were buried the lightning-struck lovers is on next page.
Think not, by rigorous judgment seized,
A pair so faithful could expire;
[Description of an Ancient English Country Seat.] And snatched them in celestial fire.
To LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU. Live well, and fear no sudden fate:
Dear Madam-It is not possible to express the When God calls virtue to the grave,
least part of the joy your return gives me; time only Alike 'tis justice, soon or late,
and experience will convince you how very sincere it Mercy alike to kill or save.
is. I excessively long to meet you, to say so much, Virtue unmoved can hear the call,
so very much to you, that I believe I shall say noAnd face the flash that melts the ball.
thing. I have given orders to be sent for, the first
minute of your arrival (which I beg you will let them Upon the whole, I cannot think these people un- know at Ár Jervas's).' I am fourscore miles from happy. The greatest happiness, next to living as London, a short journey compared to that I so often they would have done, was to die as they did. The thought at least of undertaking, rather than die withgreatest honour people of this low degree could have, out seeing you again. Though the place I am in was to be remembered on a little monument; unless is such as I would not quit for the town, if I did not you will give them another—that of being honoured value you more than any, nay, everybody else there; with a tear from the finest eyes in the world. I and you will be convinced how little the town has know you have tenderness; you must have it; it is engaged my affections in your absence from it, when the very emanation of good sense and virtue: the you know what a place this is which I prefer to it; I finest minds, like the finest metals, dissolve the shall therefore describe it to you at large, as the true easiest.
picture of a genuine ancient country-seat.
Stanton Harcourt, Oxfordshire. You must expect nothing regular in my description balcony, which time has turned to a very convenient of a house that seems to be built before rules were in penthouse. The top is crowned with a very venerable fashion : the whole is so disjointed, and the parts so tower, so like that of the church just by, that the detached from each other, and yet so joining again, jackdaws build in it as if it were the true steeple. one cannot tell how, that (in a poetical fit) you would The great hall is high and spacious, flanked with imagine it had been a village in Amphion's time, long tables, images of ancient hospitality; ornawhere twenty cottages had taken a dance together, mented with monstrous horns, about twenty broken were all out, and stood still in amazement ever since. pikes, and a matchlock musket or two, which they A stranger would be grievously disappointed who say were used in the civil wars. Here is one rast should ever think to get into this house the right arched window, beautifully darkened with divers way. One would expect, after entering through the scutcheons of painted glass. There seems to be great porch, to be let into the hall; alas! nothing less, propriety in this old manner of blazoning upon glass, you find yourself in a brewhouse. From the parlour ancient families being like ancient windows, in the you think to step into the drawing-room; but, upon course of generations seldom free from cracks. One opening the iron-nailed door, you are convinced by a shining pane bears date 1286. The youthful face of flight of birds about your ears, and a cloud of dust in Dame Elinor owes more to this single piece than to all your eyes, that it is the pigeon-house. On each side the glasses she ever consulted in her life. Who can our porch are two chimneys, that wear their greens on say after this that glass is frail, when it is not half so the outside, which would do as well within, for when- perishable as human beauty or glory! For in another ever we make a fire, we let the smoke out of the pane you see the memory of a knight preserved, whose windows. Over the parlour-window hangs a sloping | marble nose is mouldered from his monument in the