in haste for the procurement of some moderate profit for the author, though he did not live to see it published. It corrects many mistakes in his Ecclesiastical History; but makes more new ones in their stead." And again, "The lives of his greatest heroes are commonly misshapen scraps mixed with tattle and lies." The Bishop has given the reason for which the work was "huddled up," as a quotation, and see how honestly. Fuller, in the first page of his Worthies,' gives five reasons why he wrote the book, and of these the one the Bishop selected he has misstated. "Know, then," says our author, "I propound five ends to myself in this book: first, to gain some glory to God; secondly, to preserve the memories of the dead; thirdly, to present examples to the living; fourthly, to entertain the reader with delight; and lastly (which I am not ashamed publicly to profess), to procure some honest profit to myself. If not so happy to obtain all, I will be joyful to obtain some; yea, contented and thankful, too, if gaining any (especially the first) of these ends, the motives of my endeavours." Surely with this before him, and the honesty of the writer stamped unmistakably on every page of the book, it was rather too uncharitable, and especially in a bishop, so to read and repeat the passage. As to its being "huddled up in haste," Fuller gives plenty of evidence of the long and studious diligence with which it had been prepared; and his old biographer gives a pleasant account of the constant inquiries he for years had been making into every particular connected with this, his favourite work.

In

"When in progress with the King's army, his business and study then was a kind of errantry. what place soever he came, of remark especially, he spent most of his time in views and researches of their antiquities and church monuments; insinuating himself into the acquaintance, which frequently ended in the lasting friendship, of the learnedest and gravest persons residing within the place, thereby to inform himself fully of those things he thought worthy the commendation of his labours... Nor did the good Doctor ever refuse to

light his candle, in investigating truth, from the meanest person's discovery. He would endure contentedly an hour or more impertinence from any aged church-officer, or other superannuated person, for the gleaning of two lines to his purpose. And though his spirit was quick

and nimble, and all the faculties of his mind ready and answerable to that activity of despatch; yet, in these inquests, he would stay and attend those circular rambles till they came to a point; so resolute was he bent to the sifting out of abstruse antiquity. Nor did he ever dismiss such adjutators, or helpers, as he was pleased to style them, without giving them money and cheerful thanks besides."

As for the value of his Lives, we can only say that we have been for years in the constant habit of referring to them, and believe that a less-fitting description could not possibly have been framed, than the Bishop's "misshapen scraps mixed with tattle and lies," even by a man coarser and duller than Nicolson.

There is much wanting in the historical works of Fuller. He was deficient in the plastic power needful in a master of the historic art. When the whole was before him he could, indeed, mould it into a complete shape, but not of the highest order; his style falls far short of that. The continuous effort after the ludicrous, though in him more natural than in almost any other writer, has at length a somewhat wearisome effect. He is also in many respects a careless writer in the spelling of proper names for instance, and the more serious matter of chronology. Of chronology, indeed, he was rather afraid, calling it a little surly animal apt to bite the fingers of those who ventured to handle it with undue familiarity. In reading his works one is tempted sometimes to fancy that he was not accustomed to revise them so much is met with that would seem to have courted the knife. Then, amusing as they are, there are such heaps of stories, digressions, odd allusions, and quaint sayings scattered about everywhere, as to disfigure where they do not perplex his story. His histories must be a perfect purgatory to a methodic man,

We have often thought what a delight it would be to watch some staid dull student, who, having by chance heard of Fuller's Church History,' or 'History of the Holy War' as a good book, had purchased it, and sat down in an historic mood to study it. To watch him

the table cleared, lamp trimmed, note-book by his side, pens cut-plod deliberately through the first chapter, the second

But to one who can relish the free spirit of a genuine man Fuller is one of the most thoroughly enjoyable of writers. And if there is now here any great reach or profundity of thought-nowhere the stamp of the highest-there is everywhere sufficient proof of a very high order of intellect. Tainted as is his style and manner of expression by the characteristic quaintness of his age, he was almost wholly free from its characteristic intolerance. The seventeenth century, we need not say, was a most remarkable one from the strongly excited feelings of the people in this country on many questions of highest concern, there was a clashing and general ferment in minds of every variety of temperament, with the results of which all are more or less familiar. The theological writers partook of this excitement, and there is a greater diversity of intellectual power displayed in their writings than in those of the English divines of any other age; yet among them Fuller stands alone. He is the most original writer among them-perhaps the most original writer of his age. Wit is what is most striking in him; it is not his only excellence by any means; but it is that which colours everything he touches. As we have seen, he freely uses it in the pulpit, where now it would of course not be tolerated. South, some twenty years his junior, also has an abundance of wit in his sermons; but there is this vast difference--while South uses his most plenteously in rendering ridiculous the sectaries whom he so dislikes, Fuller's is never directed against any person or body of men. Probably there could not be another writer named, with such a weapon at command, who used it so gently in no page he ever wrote is there either irony or sarcasm. His lip never curls into a

sneer. Gentle as a child, though mirthfulness is the essence of his character, it is as harmless as a child's fullhearted glee. Abundant as is his wit, its richness is equally so, because it is fed from an imagination fertile, exuberant; but the exercise of it is a never-failing source of surprise and pleasure.

To sum up all in a word, he was a true-hearted honest man; sincere, charitable, generous; as an author thoroughly original, possessed of a lively imagination, sound sense, much wisdom, and an everflowing, indeed, overflowing, cheerfulness. He wanted alone, perhaps, a severer mental discipline to have become a really great man, as he is now but a great one comparatively. His books have, in some measure, lost their use. They are valuable now to the student of our literature rather than to the general reader. But the contemplation of his character, as we read it in his life and works, is not without good for all of us. We may learn there that to keep our hearts open to all kindly feelings, to avoid forming harsh notions of men who may differ from us ever so widely, to cherish wide sympathies, and to seek after comprehensiveness of thought and clearness of vision--that this is the best way to attain truth and happiness; and that in pursuing our own proper course, whatever that may be, with cheerful earnest sincerity, consists at once our strength and safety.

Ir this great ornament of our church did not boast of an exalted lineage, he numbered among his forefathers one at least, the worthy ancestor of such a descendant, Dr. Rowland Taylor, chaplain to Cranmer, and rector of Hadleigh, distinguished among the divines of the Reformation for his abilities, learning, and piety, as well as for the courageous cheerfulness with which he suffered death at the stake in the reign of Queen Mary. Jeremy Taylor was the son of a barber, resident in Trinity parish, Cambridge; and was baptized in Trinity church August 15th, 1613. He was 66 grounded in grammar and mathematics" by his father, and entered as a sizar at Caius College August 18th, 1626. Of his deportment, his studies, even of the honours and emoluments of his academical life, we have no certain knowledge. It is stated by Dr. Rust, in his Funeral Sermon, that Taylor was clected fellow; but this is at least doubtful, for no record of the fact exists in the registers