into the secrets of the artificially antithetical sentences of our modern school.

There is such an air of innocent simplicity about him, that even when his coarseness is most likely to offend, we cannot find it in us to be displeased. His vulgarity is never either obscene or immoral; it is the consequence of a child-like ignorance of evil. His honest manliness disdains to cloak its meaning in useless verbiage; for he was too straight-forward in his intentions ever to suspect that truth, though never so plainly told, could give offence.

He is therefore no dictionary hunter for delicate phrases, nor does he shun, as the highest crime, the repetition of the same terms. Familiar with many languages, his own is the noblest idiom of his mother tongue. He scorned to depend upon an engrafted dialect for the expression of thoughts to which unadulterated English was fully equal.

It was, indeed, characteristic of the writers of that period, that, however Latinized might be their general style, when excited to extraordinary enthusiasm their eloquence clothes itself as it were instinctively in the Saxon garb. We believe that this will hold true even of those who, like Milton and Hooker, preferred the Latin branch of our language. Shakspeare and the translators of the Bible were not the only ones who delighted to draw from the well of English pure and undefiled.

Fuller's learning was evidently great-sufficient to have overwhelmed a common mind; but comprehending its true value, it was not with him a mass of unwieldy lumber accumulated for mere ostentation; it is the panoply that protects, while it does not encumber: impedes not the freedom of his motions, while it enables him more efficiently to contend. Multifarious as were his acquirements, each one was forged into some potent weapon either for defence or attack. None felt more the force of that great truth which he has beautifully enunciated in the following terms:

"I know the cavil against general learning is, that he that sips of many arts drinks of none. However, we must know that all learning, which is but one grand science, hath so homogeneal a body that the parts thereof do, with a mutual service, relate to and communicate strength and lustre to each other."

We cannot refrain from offering to the reader another choice specimen, on the relation which the various branches of knowledge should bear to the profession in which an individual may be engaged :

"Thus taking the sciences in their general latitude, he hath finished the round circle or golden ring of the arts— only he keeps a place for the diamond to be set in, I mean for that predominant profession of law, physick, divinity or state policy, which he intends for his calling hereafter."

In this neglected work we occasionally recognise an old acquaintance, usually attributed to some writer more universally known, and it is sometimes difficult to decide between the original and the plagia

rist. Thus the famous saying ascribed to Bacon: "Grant the moderns but dwarfs, yet stand they on giants' shoulders and may see the farther :" is to be found in our author's chapter on a True Church Antiquary, with this addition: "Sure as stout champions of truth follow in the rear as ever marched in the front."

It would seem to have been Fuller's amusement to image to himself what course of conduct, in the various circumstances of life, his beloved religion would dictate to a soul like his, pure, holy and uncontaminated; and that when this labor of love was accomplished, unwilling that the record should perish, he bequeathed it as his noblest gift to posterity. Mark the pious horror which sacrilegious interference with holy things inspired:

"Jest not with the two-edged sword of God's word. Will nothing please thee to wash thy hands in but the Font? or to drink health in, but the Church chalice ?"

A soul so pure must have been the seat of the kindliest feelings of our nature.

The age of Fuller (that immediately preceding the great rebellion) was unpropitious to the advent of any literary production, whatever might be its merits. The struggles between constitutional liberty and the divine right of kings, left no leisure for the quiet pursuit of literature. The only eloquence which such an age admitted was that of the patriot orator. An excess of religious zeal would blind his countrymen to the merit of any who, like Fuller, was the stanch advocate of the detested" Church and State." He thus pathetically alludes to these troubles :

"Who is not sensible with sorrow of the distractions of the age? To write books, therefore, may seem unseasonable; especially in a time wherein the press, like an unruly horse, hath cast off its bridle of being licensed, and some serious books which dare fly abroad are hooted at by a flock of pamphlets. Meantime I will stop the leakage of my soul, and what heretofore hath run out in writing, shall hereafter (God willing), be improved in constant preaching in what place soever God's providence and friends' good will shall appoint."

We would conclude by again urging those who wish for strength and massiveness rather than for mere prettiness of thought, to read, study, and become imbued with our elder writers—not forgetting that there are among them excellencies which time may partially obscure, but can never totally efface; that while a Milton, a Taylor, and a Shakspeare are known and honored wherever their language is understood, there are, of the same age and country, others whose merits can be dimmed by comparison with none but theirs; that there is a fountain from which we can draw with the assurance that its water will be doubly sweet because stolen from a source unfrequented, nay, unknown. R. T.

LA GRISETTE.

AH! Clemence, when I saw thee last
Trip down the rue de Seine,

And turning, when thy form had passed,
I said "We meet again;"

I dreamed not in that idle glance

Thy latest image came,

And only left to Memory's trance

A shadow and a name.

The few strange words my lips had taught Thy timid voice to speak;

Their gentler signs, which often brought

Fresh roses to thy cheek;

The trailing of thy long loose hair,

Bent o'er my couch of pain;

All, all returned, more sweet, more fair

O, had we met again!

I walked where saint and virgin keep
The vigil lights of Heaven,

I knew that thou hadst woes to weep,
And sins to be forgiven;

I watched where Genevieve is laid,
I knelt by Mary's shrine;
Beside me low, soft voices prayed,
Alas! but where was thine?

And when the morning sun was bright,
When wind and wave were calm,
And flamed in thousand tinted light,
The rose of Notre Dame ;

I wandered through the haunts of men,
From Boulevard to Quai,

Till, frowning over Saint Etienne,
The Pantheon's shadow lay.

In vain, in vain. We meet no more,
Nor dream what fates befall,

And long upon the stranger's shore
My voice on thee may call;

When years have clothed the line with moss

That tells thy name and days,

And withered on thy simple cross
The wreaths of Père la Chaise.

A DAY IN THE LIFE OF A PERSIAN JEW.

FROM THE GERMAN.

In the city of Tabreez dwelt the Jew Iouad, active in his habits and prosperous in trade, like others of his tribe and nation; but withal despised by the Mussulmen, and exposed, according to the custom of the country, to their exactions and extortions. By means of a secret traffic in choice wines and spirits, while ostensibly pursuing the vocation of a truckster, he had amassed considerable wealth, which, under the veil of apparent poverty, he contrived to conceal from the eyes and knowledge of his envious neighbors and rapacious rulers.

One morning, just as the hour of prayer was proclaimed from the tops of the minarets, and while the faithful were asserting their belief in "one God, and Mohammed his prophet," and muttering sundry maledictions on misbelieving dogs, Iouad's wife came running in alarm and roused him from his slumber, announcing the approach of the Ferash Pasha, whose province it was to search the houses of Jews and Christians for concealed wine. Iouad instantly bore his vessels and other articles of value to a secret vault; and when the inquisitor entered, the apparent abject poverty and squalid destitution of the cunning Jew lulled suspicion and prompted a speedy departure, after a promise had been exacted that the wretched trader would vend no wines to the faithful.

Having thus rid himself of his unbidden and unwelcome guest, Iouad shouldered his budget of small wares and left his dwelling, to repair to the little stall which he usually occupied in the great bazaar. There, having arranged his merchandize with suitable regard for display, and taken a seat to await the coming of customers, he busied himself with the preparation of a liniment for wounds and bruises for Iouad was celebrated in the city as a skilful physician and surgeon; and the Mohammedan populace firmly believed that he could cure all manner of diseases. But his peaceful employment did not continue long undisturbed. An uproar arose in the neighborhood, and ere Iouad was aware, he was surrounded by a band of Janizaries, who had just extorted tribute from a Greek merchant for granting him permission to walk the streets unmolested. The captain addressed Iouad in a harsh and peremptory tone:

"Where is thy shovel?" cried he; "and why sittest thou here idle

while the new-fallen snow lies on the palace of the Kaimakaum,* and thou mightest be serviceable to thy master?"

The Janizaries swung their scourges threateningly over the head of the poor Jew; yet intimated that by the timely bestowal of a proper douceur, he might procure exemption from the infliction of stripes. But Iouad, resolved not to purchase immunity or freedom, plead poverty; and was thereupon condemned, in company with others of his Hebrew brethren suffering was "the badge of all his tribe” - to assist in removing the snow that had fallen on the palace of the Kaimakaum.

When he had performed the arbitrary "soccage" service thus imposed, he returned to his stall and resumed the preparation of his lini❤ ment. He found his wares precisely as he had left them, for he had taken care to leave nothing exposed that was worth stealing.

While sitting there and refreshing himself with a cup of janautt anglicè, buttermilk and a slice of bread, he perceived a cavalcade of females passing the entrance of the bazaar, marshalled by an aged servant on foot. Their number, as well as their white veils, apprized him that they were ladies belonging to the harem of some great man in the city; and the sight aroused at once his cherished detestation of Moslem dominion and customs.

"Accursed race!" murmured forth he, drawing forth covertly a brandy flask from its concealment in the padding of an old cart saddle "accursed race! if Heaven did ye justice, ye would be swept from the face of the earth!"

Having enunciated this charitable toast, he stooped down as though he were seeking something in a corner, and covering over his brandy flask, finished his frugal repast with an inspiriting draught of its treasured contents. Then, looking about cautiously to ascertain whether or not his bibular stratagem had been observed, he adroitly reposited the flask in its hiding-place, and commenced striking fire to light his pipe. While thus occupied, he was disturbed by loud cries and lamentations in the street, and soon beheld a crowd running in the direction which the cavalcade had taken.

"Were I certain," muttered Iouad to himself, "that they had broken their limbs or their necks, I also would repair to the scene and rejoice at the sight; but now I need repose."

So saying, the considerate and benevolent retailer of varieties pocketed his flint, steel, and tinder, and began to whiff his pipe with much demureness and infinite unconcern. But soon his name was called in the streets, and echoed from all quarters.

"Hasten, Iouad! good Iouad!" cried the agitated and weeping old servant; "dear Iouad, prince of learned doctors! hasten to the assist

* The Kaimakaum is an officer who, in the absence of the Grand Vizier or Sultan, acts as Deputy or Lieutenant.