If avarice be thy vice, yet make it not thy punishment; miserable men commiserate not themselves, bowelless unto themselves and merciless unto their own bowels. Let the fruition of things bless the possession of them, and take no satisfaction in dying but living rich. For since thy good works, not thy goods, will follow thee; since riches are an appurtenance of life, and no dead man is rich; to famish in plenty, and live poorly to die rich, were a multiplying improvement in madness, and use upon use in folly.

Persons lightly dipped, not grained in generous honesty, are but pale in goodness, and faint-hued in sincerity; but be thou what thou virtuously art, and let not the ocean wash away thy tincture. Since few or none prove eminently virtuous but from some advantageous foundations in their temper and natural inclinations, study thyself betimes, and early find what nature bids thee to be, or tells thee what thou mayest be. They who thus timely descend into themselves, cultivating the good seeds which nature hath set in them, and improving their prevalent inclinations to perfection, become not shrubs, but cedars in their generation; and to be in the form of the best of the bad, or the worst of the good, will be no satisfaction unto them.

Let not the law of thy country be the "non ultra" of thy honesty, nor think that always good enough which the law will make good. Narrow not the law of charity, equity, mercy; join gospel righteousness with legal right; be not a mere Gamaliel in the faith, but let the Sermon on the Mount be thy Targum unto the law of Sinai.

Make not the consequences of virtue the ends thereof; be not beneficent for a name or cymbal of applause, nor exact and punctual in commerce for the advantages of trust and credit which attend the reputation of just and

true dealing; for such rewards, though unsought for, plain virtue will bring with her, whom all men honour, though they pursue not.

Owe not thy humility unto humiliation by adversity, but look humbly down in that state when others look upward upon thee. Be patient in the age of pride and days of will and impatiency, when men live but by intervals of reason, under the sovereignty of humour and passion, when it is in the power of every one to transform thee out of thyself, and put thee into the short madness. If you cannot imitate Job, yet come not short of Socrates and those patient Pagans, who tired the tongues of their enemies while they perceived they spat their malice at brazen walls and statues.

Let age, not envy, draw wrinkles on thy cheeks; be content to be envied, but envy not. Emulation may be plausible, and indignation allowable; but admit no treaty with that passion, which no circumstance can make good.

Look humbly upon thy virtues, and though thou art rich in some, yet think thyself poor and naked without that crowning grace, which thinketh no evil, which envieth not, which beareth, believeth, hopeth, endureth all things. With these sure graces, while busy tongues are crying out for a drop of cold water, mutes may be in happiness, and sing the Trisagium in heaven.

Let not the sun in Capricorn go down upon thy wrath, but write thy wrongs in water; draw the curtain of night upon injuries; shut them up in the tower of oblivion, and let them be as though they had not been. Forgive thine enemies totally, and without any reserve of hope that, however, God will revenge thee.

Be substantially great in thyself, and more than thou appearest unto others; and let the world be deceived in thee, as they are in the lights of heaven. Hang early

plummets upon the heels of pride, and let ambition have but an epicycle or narrow circuit in thee. Measure not thyself by thy morning shadow, but by the extent of thy grave: and reckon thyself above the earth by the line thou must be contented with under it.

Give no quarter unto those vices which are of thine inward family, and having a root in thy temper, plead a right and property in thee. Examine well thy complex

ional inclinations. Raise early batteries against those strong-holds built upon the rock of nature, and make this a great part of the militia of thy life.

If length of days be thy portion, make it not thy expectation. Reckon not upon long life, but live always beyond thy account. He that so often surviveth his expectation, lives many lives, and will hardly complain of the shortness of his days. Time past is gone like a shadow; make times to come present; conceive that near which may be far off; approximate thy last times by present apprehensions of them; live like a neighbour unto death, and think there is but little to come. And since there is something in us that must still live on, join both lives together; unite them in thy thoughts and actions, and live in one but for the other. He who thus ordereth the purposes of this life, will never be far from the next, and is in some manner already in it, by a happy conformity and close apprehension of it.

FROM "CHRISTIAN MORALS," BY SIR THOMAS

BROWNE.

Comply with some humours, bear with others, but serve none. Civil complacency consists with decent honesty; flattery is a juggler, and no kin unto sincerity. But while thou maintainest the plain path, and scornest to flatter others, fall not into self-adulation, and become not thine own parasite. Be deaf unto thyself, and be not

betrayed at home. Self-credulity, pride, and levity lead unto self-idolatry.

...

Let not fortune, which hath no name in scripture, have any in thy divinity. Let providence, not chance, have the honour of thy acknowledgments, and be thy Edipus in contingencies. Mark well the paths and winding ways thereof; but be not too wise in the construction, or sudden in the application. Leave future occurrences to their uncertainties, think that which is present thy own; and, since 't is easier to foretel an eclipse than a foul day at some distance, look for little regular below. Attend with patience the uncertainty of things, and what lieth yet unexerted in the chaos of futurity. The uncertainty and ignorance of things to come, makes the world new unto us by unexpected emergencies. . . .

Though a contented mind enlargeth the dimension of little things; and unto some it is wealth enough not to be poor; and others are well content, if they be but rich enough to be honest, and to give every man his due: yet fall not into that obsolete affectation of bravery, to throw away thy money, and to reject all honours or honourable stations in this courtly and splendid world. Old generosity is superannuated, and such contempt of the world out of date.

When thou lookest upon the imperfections of others, allow one eye for what is laudable in them, and the balance they have from some excellency, which may render them considerable. .

Since virtuous actions have their own trumpets, and, without any noise from thyself, will have their resound abroad; busy not thy best member in the encomium of thyself. Praise is a debt we owe unto the virtues of others, and due unto our own from all, whom malice hath not made mutes, or envy struck dumb.

THOMAS FULLER

(A. D. 1608-1661.)

THOMAS FULLER, born at Aldwinkle, Northamptonshire, in 1608, having entered Queen's College, Cambridge, at the early age of twelve years, became a popular preacher when he was twenty, and began very shortly to publish his writings. His "Holy and Profane State" appeared in 1642, and passed rapidly through four editions. It consists of two parts, the former presenting examples for imitation, and the latter their opposites. The "Holy State" contains rules for the religious guidance of the individual in every relation of life, as the husband, father, soldier, and divine. The few of these which bear on conduct in the simply moral view are quoted below.

SELECTIONS FROM "THE HOLY STATE."

Of Company. A desert is better than a debauched companion. For the wildness of the place is but uncheerful, whilst the wildness of bad persons is also infectious. Better therefore ride alone than have a thief's company. And such is a wicked man, who will rob thee of precious time, if he doth no more mischief.

If thou beest cast into bad company, like Hercules, thou must sleep with thy club in thine hand, and stand on thy guard. I mean, if against thy will the tempest of an unexpected occasion drives thee amongst such rocks; then be thou like the river Dee in Merionethshire in Wales, which running through Pimble meer remains entire, and mingles not her streams with the waters of the lake. Though with them, be not of them; keep civil