besides his enmity to the power and practice of his own religion, is seldom without further bias of interest or faction; especially when these concur, and a man is both ungodly and ambitious, espousing an interest contrary to a holy, heavenly life; and also factious, embodying himself with a sect or party suited to his spirit and designs; there is no believing his word or oath. If you read any man partially bitter against others, as differing from him in opinion, or as cross to his greatness, interest, or designs, take heed how you believe any more than the historical evidence, distinct from his word, compelleth you to believe. The prodigious lies which have been published in this age in matters of fact, with unblushing confidence, even where thousands of multitudes of eye and ear witnesses knew all to be false, doth call men to take heed what history they believe, especially where power and violence affordeth that privilege to the reporter, that no man dare answer him or detect his fraud; or if they do, their writings are all supprest. As long as men have the liberty to examine and contradict one another, one may partly conjecture, by comparing their words, on which side the truth is like to lie. But when great men write history, or flatterers by their appointment, which no man dare contradict, believe it but as you are constrained. Yet in these cases I can freely believe history: (1.) If the person show that he is acquainted with what he saith. (2.) And if he show you the evidences of honesty and conscience, and the fear of God, which may be much perceived in the spirit of a writing. (3.) If he appear to be impartial and charitable, and a lover of goodness and of mankind, and not possessed of malignity or personal ill-will and malice, nor carried away by faction or personal interest. Conscionable men dare not lie; but faction and interest abate men's tenderness of conscience. And a charitable, impartial heathen may speak truth in a love to truth, and hatred of a lie; but ambitious malice and false religion will not stick to serve themselves on anything. Sure I am, that as the lies of the Papists, of Luther, Zwinglius, Calvin, and Beza are visibly malicious and impudent, by the common plenary contradicting evidence, and yet the multitudes of their seduced ones believe them all, in despite of truth and charity; so in this age there have been such things written against parties and persons whom the writers design to make , so notoriously false as you would think that the sense of or, at least, should have made it impossible for such men to write. My own eyes have read such words and actions asserted with most vehement, iterated, unblushing confidence, which abundance of ear-witnesses, even of their own parties, must needs know to have been altogether false. And therefore having myself now written this history of myself, notwithstanding my protestation that I have not in anything wilfully gone against the truth, I expect no more credit from the reader than the self-evidencing light of the matter, with concurrent rational advantages from persons, and things, and other witnesses, shall constrain him to, if he be a person that is unacquainted with the author himself, and the other evidences of his veracity and candor. SUNDAY SPORTS. I CANNOT forget that in my youth, in those late times when we lost the labors of some of our conformably godly teachers, for not reading publicly the Book of Sports and dancing on the Lord's Day, one of my father's own tenants was the town-piper, hired by the year, for many years together; and the place of the dancing assembly was not a hundred yards from our door. We could not, on the Lord's Day, either read a chapter, or pray, or sing a psalm, or catechize, or instruct a servant, but with the noise of the pipe and tabor, and the shoutings in the street continually in our ears. Even among a tractable people, we were the common scorn of all the rabble in the streets, and called puritans, precisians, and hypocrites, because we rather chose to read the Scriptures than do as they did; though there was no savor of non-conformity in our family. And when the people by the Book were allowed to play and dance out of public servicetime, they could so hardly break off their sports, that many a time the reader was fain to stay till the piper and players would give over. Sometimes the morris-dancers would come into the church in all their linen and scarfs and antic dresses, with morris-bells jingling at their legs; and as soon as commonprayer was read, did haste out presently to their plays again. CHARACTER OF SIR MATTHEW HALE. He was a man of no quick utterance, but spake with great reason. He was most precisely just; insomuch that, I believe, he would have lost all he had in the world rather than do an unjust act. Patient in hearing the most tedious speech, which any man had to make for himself; the pillar of justice, the refuge of the subject who feared oppression; and one of the greatest honors of his majesty's government; for with some other upright judges, he upheld the honor of the English nation, that it fell not into the reproach of arbitrariness, cruelty, and utter confusion. Every man that had a just cause was almost past fear if he could but bring it to the court or assize where he was He was judge; for the other judges seldom contradicted him. the great instrument for rebuilding London; for when an act was made for deciding all controversies that hindered it, he was the constant judge who, for nothing, followed the work, and by his prudence and justice, removed a multitude of great impediments. - His great advantage for innocency was, that he was no lover of riches or of grandeur. His garb was too plain; he studiously avoided all unnecessary familiarity with great persons, and all that manner of living which signifieth wealth and greatness. He kept no greater a family than myself. I lived in a small house, which, for a pleasant back opening, he had a mind to; but caused a stranger that he might not be suspected to be the man - to know of me whether I were willing to part with it, before he would meddle with it. In that house he lived contentedly, without any pomp, and without costly or troublesome retinue or visitors; but not without charity to the poor. He continued the study of physics and mathematics still, as his great delight. He had got but a very small estate, though he had long the greatest practice, because he would take but little money, and undertake no more business than he could well despatch. He often offered to the Lord Chancellor to resign his place, when he was blamed for doing that which he supposed was justice. He had been the learned Selden's intimate friend, and one of his executors; and because the Hobbians and other infidels would have persuaded the world that Selden was of their mind, I desired him to tell me the truth therein. He assured me that Selden was an earnest professor of the Christian faith, and so angry an adversary to Hobbes, that he had rated him out of the room. Autobiography. 1047 EARL OF BEACONSFIELD. DISRAELI, BENJAMIN (created EARL OF BEACONSFIELD, in 1877), an English statesman and novelist; born in London, December 21, 1805; died April 19, 1881. He was the eldest son of Isaac Disraeli. In 1826-27 he produced a novel, "Vivian Grey," which was well received in England, and was translated into several languages. "The Voyage of Captain Pompanilla " followed in 1828. The young author then travelled for two years in Europe, Syria, and Egypt. On his return he published "The Young Duke" (1831), and "Contarini Fleming" (1832), the latter of which was highly praised by Heine, Goethe, and Beckford. An Oriental romance, "The Wondrous Tale of Alroy," another "The Rise of Iskander," and "Ixion in Heaven," were published in 1833. "The Revolutionary Epic" (1834), a series of political letters in the London "Times," under the signature of "Runnymede," and a novel, "Henrietta Temple," appeared in 1836, and "Venetia," in 1837. Disraeli had made several efforts to enter Parliament. He was finally successful as a representative of the borough of Maidstone. A tragedy, "Alcaros " (1839), was his next literary effort. In this year he married the wealthy widow of Mr. Wyndham Lewis. "Coningsby" (1844), and "Sibyl, or the Two Nations " (1845), two semi-political novels, are intended to portray the public men of the time, and the English people during the Chartist agitation. “Tancred, or the New Crusade" (1847), takes its hero to the Holy Land, relates his adventures and records his soliloquies and conversations. Disraeli was now recognized as a leader in the House of Commons. His only literary productions for many years were the "Life of Isaac Disraeli" (1849), and "Lord George Bentinck; a Political Biography" (1852). In 1852 he was made Chancellor of the Exchequer, which office he again held in 1858 and in 1865. In 1868 he became Prime Minister, and was offered a peerage. This he declined for himself, but accepted for his wife, who was made Viscountess of Beaconsfield. He now reappeared as a novelist, in "Lothair" (1870). In 1874 he again became Prime Minister, and in 1877 he took his seat in the House of Lords as Earl of Beaconsfield. His last literary work, "Endymion," was published in 1880. THE FÊTE AT THE PAVILION. (From "The Young Duke.") THE fête at "the Pavilion," such was the title of the Twickenham Villa, though the subject of universal interest, was anticipated by no one with more eager anxiety than by Sir Lucius Grafton; for that day, he determined, should decide the fate of the Duke of St. James. He was sanguine as to the result, nor without reason. For the last month he had, by his dark machinery, played desperately upon the feelings of Lady Aphrodite; and more than once had she dispatched rapid notes to her admirer for counsel and for consolation. The Duke was more skilful in soothing her griefs than in devising expedients for their removal. He treated the threatened as a distant evil! and wiped away her tears in a manner which is almost an encouragement to weep. At last the eventful morn arrived, and a scorching sun made those exult to whom the barge and the awning promised a progress equally calm and cool. Woe to the dusty britzska! woe to the molten furnace of the crimson cabriolet ! They came, as the stars come out from the heavens, what time the sun is in his first repose: now a single hero, brilliant as a planet; now a splendid party, clustering like a constellation. Music is on the waters and perfume on the land; each moment a bark glides up with its cymbals, each moment a cavalcade bright with bouquets! Ah, gathering of brightness! ah, meeting of lustre! why, why are you to be celebrated by one so obscure and dull as I am? Ye Lady Carolines and ye Lady Franceses, ye Lady Barbaras and ye Lady Blanches, is it my fault? O, graceful Lord Francis, why, why have you left us; why, why have you exchanged your Ionian lyre for an Irish harp? You were not made for politics; leave them to clerks. Fly, fly back to pleasure, to frolic, and fun! Confess, now, that you sometimes do feel a little queer. We say nothing of the difference between May Fair and Donnybrook. And thou, too, Luttrell, gayest bard that ever threw off a triplet amid the clattering of cabs and the chattering of clubs, art thou, too, mute? Where, where dost thou linger? Is our Druid among the oaks of Ampthill; or, like a truant Etonian, is he lurking among the beeches of Burnham ? What! has |