no show of those graces and that art which gave him later an ambassador's place, and a tomb and monument in the "Poet's Corner of the Abbey. Jonathan Swift, then scarce twenty-one, is unheard of as yet, and is nursing quietly the power and the bitterness with which, through two succeeding reigns, he is to write and rave and rage.

Still more youthful are those two promising lads, Addison and Steele, listening with their sharp young ears to the fine verses of Mr. Dryden, and watching and waiting for the day when they, too, shall say somewhat to be of record for ages after them. And so, with these bright young fellows at the front, and the excellent gray-heads I have named at the rear, we ring down the curtain upon our present entertainment with an "Exeunt om

nes!"

I

CHAPTER VII

HAVE a fear that my readers were not over

much interested in what I had to say of that witty Dr. Thomas Fuller who wrote about the Worthies of England, and who pressed his stalwart figure (for he was of the bigness of our own Phillips Brooks corporeal and mental) through many a London crowd that came to his preachments. Yet his worthiness is something larger than that which comes from his story of the Worthies.

Sir William Temple, too, is a name that can hardly have provoked much enthusiasm, unless among those who love gardens, and who recall with rural unction his horticultural experiences at Sheen, and at Moor Park in Surrey. But that kindly, handsome, meditative, eccentric doctor of Norwich Sir Thomas Browne was of a differ

ent and more lovable quality, the memory of which

I hope may find lodgement in the reader's heart. His Religio Medici, if not his Hydriotaphia, should surely find place in every well-appointed library.

As for John Dryden-do what you like with his books; but do not forget that he left behind him writings that show all the colors and reflect all the follies and faiths of the days in which he livedplays with a portentous pomp of language-lyrics that were most melodious and most unsavorysatire that flashed and cut like a sword, and odes that had the roll and swell of martial music in them.

John Locke if less known, was worthier; and we have reason, which I tried to show, for thinking of him as a pure-hearted, level-headed, highminded man an abiding honor to his race.

Kings Charles, James, and William.

It may help the reader to keep in memory the sequence of these English sovereigns if I tell him somewhat of their relationship. James II. —previously and longer known as that Duke of York, in honor of whom our metropolitan city (in those days

conquered from the Dutch) was called New York

we know as only brother to Charles II., who died without legitimate children. This James was as bigoted and obstinate as Charles was profligate and suave. We think of him as having lost his throne in that revolution of 1688, by reason of his popish tendencies; but it is doubtful if Protestantism would have saved him, or made a better man of him. He had married and it was a marriage he tried hard to abjure and escape from a daughter of that Earl of Clarendon whose History of the Rebellion I named to you. There were two daughters by this marriage, Mary and Anne; both of them, through the influence of their Clarendon grandfather, brought up as Protestants. The elder of these, Mary, was a fine woman, tall, dignified, graceful, cultivated as times went whose greatest foible was a love for cards, at which she played for heavy stakes, and- often. Her sister Anne shared the same foible, and gave it cherishment all her life; but was not reckoned the equal of her elder sister; had none of her grace; was short, dumpy, over-fond of good dinners, and with such limited culture as made her notelets (even when

she came to be Queen) full of blunders that would put a school-mistress of our day into spasms. We shall meet her, and more pleasantly, again.

But Mary-heir next after James to the throne

- had married William of Orange, who was a fighting Dutch general; keen, cool, selfish, brave, calculating, with an excellent head for business; cruel at times, unscrupulous, too, but a good Protestant. He was great-grandson to that famous William the Silent, whose story everyone has read, or should read, in the pages of Motley.

But how came he, a Dutchman, and speaking English brokenly, to share the British throne with Mary? There were two very excellent reasons: First, he was own cousin to Mary, his mother having been a daughter of Charles I.; and next, he had kingly notions of husbandship, and refused to go to England on any throne-seeking errand, which might involve hard fighting, without sharing to the full the sovereignty of his wife Mary.

So he did go as conqueror and king; there being most easy march to London; the political scene changing like the turn of a kaleidoscope; but there came fighting in Ireland, as at Londonderry and