a cluster of grapes; that, full of that taste, you may long to pass farther. He beginneth not with obscure definitions; which must blur the margin with interpretations, and load the memory with doubtfulness; but he cometh to you with words set in delightful proportion, either accompanied with, or prepared for, the well enchanting skill of music, and with a tale, forsooth, he cometh unto you, with a tale which holdeth children from play, and old men from the chimney corner; and pretending no more, doth intend the winning of the mind from wickedness to virtue; even as the child is often brought to take most wholesome things, by hiding them in such other as have a pleasant taste; which, if one should begin to tell them the nature of the aloes or rhubarbarum they should receive, would sooner take their physic at their ears than their mouth. So is it in men, (most of whom are childish in the best things, till they be cradled in their graves.) Glad they will be to hear the tales of Hercules, Achilles, Cyrus, Æneas; and hearing them, must needs hear the right description of wisdom, valour, and justice; which, if they had been barely (that is to say, philosophically) set out, they would swear they be brought to school again.

RICHARD HOOKER was one of the most distinguished, as well as one of the earliest prose writers of this period. He was born of poor but respectable parentage, at Heavy-tree, near Exeter, in 1554. His parents, in consequence of the limitedness of their circumstances, designed him for a trade, and accordingly placed him in school at Exeter with a view to prepare for his future employment. His schoolmaster, however, soon discerned his extraordinary genius, and prevailed upon his father to continue him at school, assuring him, 'that his natural endowments and learning were both so remarkable, that God would provide him some patron who would free them from any future care or charge over him.' In consequence of this representation of young Hooker's teacher, his uncle, John Hooker, who was chamberlain of Exeter, felt a deep interest in his future destiny; and being well known to Jewell, bishop of Salisbury, he made him a visit, and ‘besought him, for charity's sake, to look favorably upon a poor nephew of his, whom nature had fitted for a scholar; but the estate of his parents was so narrow, that they were unable to give him the advantages of learning; and that the bishop, therefore, would become his patron, and prevent him from being a tradesman, for he was a boy of remarkable hopes.' The bishop, having satisfied himself that this representation was just, took the boy under his care, and obtained admission for him into Corpus-Christi College, Oxford.

At the university Hooker studied with great ardor, and equal success, and soon became much respected for his modesty, prudence, and piety. After Jewell's death, he was patronized by Sandys, bishop of London, who sent his son to Oxford, to enjoy the benefit of Hooker's instructions. He had, at the same time, another pupil, George Cranmer, a grand-nephew of the famous archbishop of the same name; and with both these young men he formed an intimate and lasting friendship. In 1579, Hooker's skill in the oriental languages led to his temporary appointment as deputy-professor of Hebrew; and having held this important position for two years, he, at the expiration of that time, entered into holy orders. Soon after he entered

the ministry he had the misfortune to be entrapped into a marriage which proved a constant source of annoyance to him during life. The circumstances of this union, which place, in a strong light, the simple and unsuspecting nature of the man, were as follows:-Having been appointed to preach at St. Paul's Cross, in London, he put up at a house set apart for the reception of the preachers. When he arrived there from Oxford he was wet and weary; but he received so much attention from the hostess, that, according to Walton, in his excess of gratitude, 'he thought himself bound in conscience to believe all that she said. So the good man came to be persuaded by her that he was a man of tender constitution; and that it was best for him to have a wife that might prove a nurse to him-such an one as might both prolong his life and make it more comfortable; and such an one she could and would provide for him, if he thought fit to marry?' Hooker, little apt to suspect in others that guile of which he himself was so entirely free, became the dupe of this woman, authorizing her to select a wife for him, and promising to marry whomsoever she should choose. The wife she provided was her own daughter, described by Walton, as a silly, clownish woman, and withal a mere Zantippe,' whom, however, he married according to his promise. With this helpmate Hooker led but an uncomfortable life, though, apparently, in a spirit of resignation. When Sandys and Cranmer visited him at a rectory in Buckinghamshire, to which he had been presented in 1584, they found him reading Horace, and tending sheep in the absence of his servant. In his house they received little entertainment, except from his conversation; and this even, Mrs. Hooker did not fail to disturb, by calling him away to rock the cradle, and by exhibiting such other examples of ill manners, as made them glad to depart on the following morning. In taking leave of his former tutor, Cranmer expressed his regret at the smallness of his income, and the uncomfortable state of his domestic affairs; to which the worthy man replied, 'My dear George, if saints have usually a double share in the miseries of this life, I, that am none, ought not to repine at what my wise Creator hath appointed for me, but labour (as indeed 1 do daily) to submit mine to his will, and possess my soul in patience and peace.'

On his return to London, Sandys made a strong appeal to his father in behalf of Hooker, the result of which was the appointment of the meek divine, in 1585, to the office of master of the Temple. He, accordingly, removed to London, and commenced his labors as forenoon preacher. At the same period the office of afternoon lecturer at the Temple was filled by Walter Travers, a man of great learning and eloquence, but of high Calvinistical opinions, while the views of Hooker, both in church government and on points of theology, were very moderate. The consequence was, that the doctrines delivered from the pulpit varied in their character, according to the preacher from whom they proceeded. Indeed, the two orators sometimes preached avowedly in opposition to each other—a circumstance which gave occasion to the remark, that 'the forenoon sermons spoke Canterbury,

and the afternoon, Geneva.' This disputation, though conducted with good temper, excited so much attention, that Archbishop Whitgift suspended Travers from preaching. A printed controversy ensued between him and Hooker, which, to the latter, was found so disagreeable, that he expressed to the archbishop an earnest desire to retire into the country, where he might be permitted to live in peace, and might have leisure to finish his treatise Of the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity, already begun. A letter which he wrote to the archbishop on this occasion deserves here to be introduced, as it shows, not only the peacefulness of temper which adhered to him through life, but likewise the object that his great work was designed to accomplish. It is as follows:

My lord,-When I lost the freedom of my cell, which was my college, yet I found some degree of it in my quiet country parsonage. But I am weary of the noise and oppositions of this place; and, indeed, God and nature did not intend me for contentions, but for study and quietness. And, my lord, my particular contests here with Mr. Travers have proved the more unpleasant to me, because I believe him to be a good man; and that belief hath occasioned me to examine mine own conscience concerning his opinions. And to satisfy that, I have consulted the holy Scriptures, and other laws, both human and divine, whether the conscience of him and others of his judgment ought to be so far complied with by us as to alter our frame of church government, our manner of God's worship, our praising and praying to him, aud our established ceremonies, as often as their tender consciences shall require us. And in this examination I have not only satisfied myself, but have begun a treatise in which I intend the satisfaction of others; by a demonstration of the reasonableness of our laws of ecclesiastical polity. But, my lord, I shall never be able to finish what I have begun, unless I be removed into some quiet parsonage, where I may see God's blessings spring out of my mother earth, and eat my own bread in peace and privacy; a place where I may, without disturbance, meditate my approaching mortality, and that great account which all flesh must give at the last day to the God of all spirits.

In consequence of this appeal, Hooker was presented, in 1591, to the rectory of Boscomb, in Wiltshire, where he soon after completed four books of his treatise, which were published in 1594. Queen Elizabeth having, in the following year, presented him to the rectory of Bishop's-Bourne, in Kent, he removed to that place, and there passed the remainder of his life in the faithful discharge of the duties of his office. Here he wrote the fifth book, which was published in 1597; but the remaining three books did not appear until after the author's death, though he had the satisfaction to live long enough to complete them. He died in the month of November, 1600, at the comparatively early age of forty-six. A few days previous to his death, his house was robbed, and when the fact was mentioned to him, he anxiously inquired whether his books and papers were safe. Being answered in the affirmative, he exclaimed, 'Then it matters not, for no other loss can trouble me.'

Hooker's treatise on 'Ecclesiastical Polity,' displays an astonishing amount of learning, sagacity, and industry; and is so excellently written, that, ac

cording to the judgment of Bishop Louth, the author has, in correctness, propriety, and purity of English style, hardly been surpassed, or even equalled by any of his successors. His argument against the Puritans is conducted with rare moderation and candor, and certainly the Church of England has never had a more powerful defender. The work is not to be regarded simply as a theological treatise; it is still referred to as a great authority upon the whole range of moral and political principles. It also bears a value as the first publication in the English language that observed a strict methodical arrangement, and presented a train of clear logical reasoning. As specimens of the body of the work, we present the following

extracts :

SCRIPTURE AND THE LAW OF NATURE.

What the Scripture proposeth, the same in all points it doth perform. Howbeit, that here we swerve not in judgment, one thing especially we must observe; namely, that the absolute perfection of Scripture is seen by relation unto that end whereto it tendeth. And even hereby it cometh to pass, that, first, such as imagine the general and main drift of the body of sacred Scripture not to be so large as it is, nor that God did thereby intend to deliver, as in truth he doth, a full instruction in all things unto salvation necessary, the knowledge whereof man by nature could not otherwise in this life attain unto; they are by this very mean induced, either still to look for new revelations from heaven, or else dangerously to add to the word of God uncertain tradition, that so the doctrine of man's salvation may be complete; which doctrine we constantly hold in all respects, without any such things added to be so complete, that we utterly refuse as much as once to acquaint ourselves with any thing further. Whatsoever, to make up the doctrine of man's salvation, is added as in supply of the Scripture's insufficiency, we reject it; Scripture, purposing this, hath perfectly and fully done it. Again, the scope and purpose of God in delivering the holy Scripture, such as do take more largely than behoveth, they, on the contrary, sideracking and stretching it further than by him was meant, are drawn into sundry great inconveniences. They, pretending the Scripture's perfection, infer thereupon, that in Scripture all things lawful to be done must needs be contained. We count those things perfect which want nothing requisite for the end whereto they were instituted. As, therefore, God created every part and particle of man exactly perfect-that is to say, in all points sufficient unto that use for which he appointed itso the Scripture, yea, every sentence thereof, is perfect, and wanteth nothing requisite unto that purpose for which God delivered the same. So that, if hereupon we conclude, that because the Scripture is perfect, therefore all things lawful to be done are comprehended in the Scripture; we may even as well conclude so of every sentence, as if the whole sum and body thereof, unless we first of all prove that it was the drift, scope, and purpose of Almighty God in holy Scripture to comprise all things which man may practice. But admit this, and mark, I beseech you, what would follow. God, in delivering Scripture to his church, should clean have abrogated among them the Law of Nature, which is an infallible knowledge imprinted in the minds of all the children of men, whereby both general principles for directing of human actions are comprehended, and conclusions derived from them; upon which conclusions groweth in particularity the choice of good and evil in the daily affairs of this life. Admit this, and what shall the Scripture be but a snare and a torment to weak consciences, filling them with infinite perplexities, scrupulosities, doubts insoluble, and extreme despairs? Not that the Scripture itself doth cause any such thing (for it tendeth to the clean contrary, and the fruit thereof is resolute assurance and certainty in that it teacheth); but the necessities of this life urging men to do

that which the light of nature, common discretion, and judgment of itself directeth them unto; on the other side, this doctrine teaching them that so to do were to sin against their own souls, and that they put forth their hands to iniquity, whatsoever they go about, and have not first the sacred Scripture of God for direction; how can it choose but bring the simple a thousand times to their wit's end. How can it choose but vex and amaze them? For in every action of common life, to find out some sentence clearly and infallibly setting before our eyes what we ought to do (seem we in Scripture never to expect), would trouble us more than we are aware. In weak and tender minds, we little know what misery this strict opinion would breed, besides the stops it would make in the whole course of men's lives and actions. Make all things sin which we do by direction of nature's light, and by the rule of common discretion, without thinking at all upon Scripture; admit the position, and parents shall cause their children to sin, as oft as they cause them to do any thing, before they come to years of capacity, and be ripe for knowledge in the Scripture. Admit this, and it shall not be with masters as it was with him in the gospel; but servants being commanded to go, shall stand still till they have their errand warranted unto them by Scripture. Which, as it standeth with Christian duty in some cases, so in common affairs to require it were most unfit.

ZEAL AND FEAR IN RELIGION.

Two affections there are, the forces whereof, as they bear the greater or lesser sway in man's heart, frame accordingly to the stamp and character of his religion— the one zeal, the other fear. Zeal, unless it be rightly guided, when it endeavoureth most busily to please God, forceth upon him those unseasonable offices which please him not. For which cause, if they who this way swerve, be compared with such sincere, sound, and discreet as Abraham was in matter of religion, the service of the one is like unto flattery, the other like the faithful sedulity of friendship. Zeal, except it be ordered aright, when it bendeth itself unto conflict with all things either indeed, or but imagined to be, opposite unto religion, useth the razor many times with such eagerness, that the very life of religion itself is thereby hazarded; through hatred of tares the corn in the field of God is plucked up. So that zeal needeth both ways a sober guide. Fear, on the other side, if it have not the light of true understanding concerning God, wherewith to be moderated, breedeth likewise superstition. It is therefore dangerous, that, in things divine, we should work too much upon the spur either of zeal or fear. Fear is a good solicitor to devotion. Howbeit, sith fear in this kind doth grow from an apprehension of Deity endued with irresistible power to hurt, and is, of all affections (anger excepted), the unaptest to admit any conference with reason, for which cause the wise man doth say of fear, that it is a betrayer of the forces of reasonable understanding; therefore, except men know beforehand what manner of service pleaseth God, while they are fearful they try all things which fancy offereth. Many there are who never think on God but when they are in extremity of fear; and then, because what to think or what to do, they are uncertain; perplexity not suffering them to be idle, they think and do, as it were in a phrensy, they know not what. Superstition neither knoweth the right kind, nor observeth the due measure, of actions belonging to the service of God, but is always joined with a wrong opinion touching things divine. Superstition is, when things are either abhorred or observed, with a zealous or fearful, but erroneous relation to God. By means whereof, the superstitious do sometimes serve, though the true God, yet with needless offices, and defraud him of duties necessary, sometimes load others than him with such honours as properly are his.