Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear
Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year,
Or man or woman. Yet I argue not

Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot
Of heart or hope; but still bear up and steer
Right onward. What supports me, dost thou ask?
The conscience, friend, to have lost them overplied
In liberty's defence, my noble task,

Of which all Europe rings from side to side.

This thought might lead me through the world's vain mask,

Content, though blind, had I no better guide.

CLARENDON.

EDWARD HYDE, EARL OF CLARENDON. Born 1608; Died 1674. He was prominent in the early struggles between Charles I. and his parliaments; but gradually attached himself more and more closely to the Royalist Party. He followed Charles II. into exile, and returned with him to power, which he continued to hold for seven years.

His chief work, The History of the Rebellion, is written in a style which, though not always grammatically accurate, yet never fails to be both vivid and effective.

CHARACTER OF LORD FALKLAND, WHO WAS SLAIN IN THE

BATTLE OF NEWBURY, BETWEEN THE PARLIAMENT FORCES UNDER THE EARL OF ESSEX, AND THE ROYALISTS COMMANDED BY PRINCE RUPERT.

In this unhappy battle was slain the Lord Viscount Falkland, a person of such prodigious parts of learning and knowledge, of that inimitable sweetness and delight

in conversation, of so flowing and obliging a humanity and goodness to mankind, and of that primitive simplicity and integrity of life, that if there were no other brand upon this odious and accursed civil war, than that single loss, it must be most infamous and execrable to all posterity.

Before this parliament, his condition of life was so happy, that it was hardly capable of improvment. Before he came to be twenty years of age, he was master of a noble fortune. He was constant and pertinacious in whatsoever he resolved to do, and not to be wearied by any pains that were necessary to that end. And, therefore, having once resolved not to see London, which he loved above all places, till he had perfectly learned the Greek tongue, he went to his own house in the country, and pursued it with that indefatigable industry, that it will not be believed in how short a time he was master of it, and accurately read all the Greek historians.

In this time, his house being within ten miles of Oxford, he contracted familiarity and friendship with the most polite and accurate men of that university; who found such an immenseness of wit, and such a solidity of judgment in him, so infinite a fancy, bound in by a most logical ratiocination, such a vast knowledge, that he was not ignorant in anything, yet such an excessive humility, as if he had known nothing, that they frequently resorted, and dwelt with him, as in a college situated in a purer air; so that his house was a university in a less volume; whither they came not so

much for repose as study: and to examine and refine those grosser propositions, which laziness and consent made current in vulgar conversation.

He was superior to all those passions and affections which attend vulgar minds, and was guilty of no other ambition than of knowledge, and to be reputed a lover of all good men; and that made him too much a contemner of those arts, wnich must be inaulged in the transactions of human affairs.

He had a courage of the most clear and keen temper, and so far from fear, that he was not without appetite of danger; and, therefore, upon any occasion of action, he always engaged his person in those troops, which he thought, by the forwardness of the commanders, to be most like to be farthest engaged; and in all such encounters he had about him a strange cheerfulness and companionableness, without at all affecting the execution that was then principally to be attended, in which he took no delight, but took pains to prevent it, where it was not, by resistance, necessary; insomuch that at Edge-hill, when the enemy was routed, he was like to have incurred great peril, by interposing to save those who had thrown away their arms, and against whom, it may be, others were more fierce for their having thrown them away; insomuch as a man might think, he came into the field only out of curiosity to see the face of danger, and charity to prevent the shedding of blood. Yet in his natural inclination he acknowledged he was addicted to the profession of a soldier; and shortly after he came to his fortune, and before he

came of age, he went into the Low Countries, with a resolution of procuring command.

From the entrance into this unnatural war, his natural cheerfulness and vivacity grew clouded, and a kind of sadness and dejection of spirit stole upon him, which he had never been used to; yet being one of those who believed that one battle would end all differences, and that there would be so great a victory on one side, that the other would be compelled to submit to any conditions from the victor, he resisted those indispositions.

When there was an overture, or hope of peace, he would be more erect and vigorous, and exceedingly solicitous to press anything which he thought might promote it. This made some think, or pretend to think, "that he was so much enamoured on peace, that he would have been glad the king should have bought it at any price;" which was a most unreasonable calumny. As if a man that was himself the most punctual and precise in every circumstance that might reflect upon conscience or honour, could have wished the king to have committed a trespass against either.

In the morning before the battle, as always upon action, he was very cheerful, and put himself into the first rank of the Lord Byron's regiment, who was then advancing upon the enemy, who had lined the hedges on both sides with musketeers; from whence he was shot with a musket in the lower part of the belly, and in the instant falling from his horse, his body was not found till the next morning; till when, there was some

hope he might have been a prisoner; though his nearest friends, who knew his temper, received small comfort from that imagination. Thus fell that incomparable young man, in the four and thirtieth year of his age, having so much despatched the business of life, that the oldest rarely attain to that immense knowledge, and the youngest enter not into the world with more innocence: whosoever leads such a life, needs not care upon how short warning it be taken from him. :

BUNYAN.

JOHN BUNYAN. BORN 1628; Died 1688.

The son of a tinker in Bedfordshire, he became a village preacher when a young man, was imprisoned in 1662 for non-conformity and was liberated only after twelve years' captivity.

His great work is The Pilgrim's Progress, which has never lost its hold upon the nation from his own day to ours. It consists of a religious allegory, and is related in the form of a dream. His style is remarkable for its exceeding simplicity.

Now, upon the bank of the river, on the other side, they saw the two Shining Men again, who there waited for them. Wherefore, being come out of the river, they saluted them, saying, We are ministering spirits, sent forth to minister to those that shall be heirs of salvation. Thus they went towards the gate.

Now you must note, that the city stood upon a mighty hill; but the pilgrims went up that hill with ease, because they had these two men to lead them up by the arms; they had likewise left their mortal garments