By act of grace, my former state; how soon For never can true reconcilement grow Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep, An Antiquary. SAMUEL BUTLER, THE greatest and bitterest of English satirists, was born in 1612, died in 1680, after a varied life. His "Hudibras" is the work on which his fame chiefly rests, but his other publications were very numerous. The following passage, in reference to the over-affectation of love for the ancients, may be advantageously compared with the passage given from " Martinus Scriblerus," p. 19. An antiquary is one that has his being in this age, but his life and conversation is in the days of old. He despises the present age as an innovation, and slights the future; but has a great value for that which is past and gone, like the madman that fell in love with Cleopatra. All his curiosities take place of one another according to their seniority, and he values them not by their abilities, but their standing. He has a great veneration for words that are stricken in years, and are grown so aged that they have outlived their employments. These he uses with a respect agreeable to their antiquity and the good services they have done. He is a great timeserver, but it is of time out of mind to which he conforms exactly, but is wholly retired from the present. His days were spent and gone long before he came into the world; and since, his only business is to collect what he can out of the ruins of them. He has so strong a natural affection to anything that is old, that he may truly say to dust and worms, You are my father," and to 66 rottenness, "Thou art my mother." He has no providence nor foresight, for all his contemplations look backward upon the days of old, and his brains are turned with them, as if he walked backwards. He values things wrongfully upon their antiquity, forgetting that the most modern are really the most ancient of all things in the world, like those that reckon their pounds before their shillings and pence, of which they are made up. He esteems no customs but such as have outlived themselves, and are long since out of use; as the Catholics allow of no saints but such as are dead, and the fanatics, in opposition, of none but the living. My Study. KIRKE WHITE. HENRY KIRKE WHITE, born at Nottingham, in 1785, applied himself so earnestly to study, that his constitution gave way, and he died in 1806. You bid me, Ned, describe the place Upon the house's topmost height, A closet, just six feet by four, With whitewashed walls and plaster floor; So noble large, 'tis scarcely able And (lest the muse should die with cold) So wondrous small, 'twould much it pose Full half the spacious room and more. So crazy, that the panes proclaim That soon they mean to leave the frame. My furniture I sure may crackA broken chair, without a back; A table, wanting just two legs, One end sustain'd by wooden pegs; A desk-of that I am not ferventThe work of, sir, your humble servant (Who, though I say't, am no such fumbler); A glass decanter, and a tumbler, From which my night-parch'd throat I lave, A chest of drawers in antique sections, So small, sir, that whoever views 'em, Of oddities upon the floor, A pair of globes, electric balls, Scales, quadrants, prisms, and cobbler's awls; And crowds of books on rotten shelves, Octavos, folios, quartos, twelves; I think, dear Ned, you curious dog, And on the walls, good heavens! why, there Of heads, and coins, and silver medals, And organ-works, and broken pedals (For I was once a-building music, Though soon of that employ I grew sick); That you, at such a sight, would swear But who it was the able master Nor think it aught of a misnomer To christen Chaucer's busto Homer, Because they both have beards, which, you know, Will mark them well from Joan and Juno), For some great men, I could not tell But neck might answer just as well, With these fair dames and heroes round, I call my garret classic ground; For though confined, 'twill well contain Thus, though my heart may seem so small, No more may Heaven her blessings give,- The Imitation of Christ. BEVERIDGE. A DISTINGUISHED divine, critic, and Oriental scholar, born in 1638, at Barrow, in Lincolnshire; died 1707. Hoping that all who profess themselves to be the friends and disciples of Jesus Christ, desire to manifest themselves to be so by following both his precepts and example, I shall give the reader a short narrative of his life and actions, wherein we may all see what true piety is, and what real Christianity requires of us; and may not content ourselves, as many do, with being professors, and adhering to parties or factions amongst us, but strive to be thorough Christians, and to carry ourselves as such, by walking as Christ himself walked; which, that we may know at least how to do, looking upon Christ as a mere man, I shall show how he did, and by consequence how we ought to carry ourselves both to God and man, and what graces and virtues he exercised all along for our example and imitation. Now for our more clear and methodical proceeding in a matter of such consequence as this is, I shall begin with his behaviour towards men, from his childhood to his death. Just, therefore, when he was a child of twelve years of age, it is particularly recorded of him, that he was subject or obedient to his parents, his real mother and reputed father.* It is true, he knew at that time that God himself was his Father, for, said he, 66 Wist ye not that I must be about my Father's business ?"+ And knowing God to be his Father, he could not but know likewise that he was infinitely above his mother; yea, that she could never have borne him, had not himself first made and supported her. Yet, howsoever, though as God he was Father to her, yet as man she was mother to him, and therefore he honoured and obeyed both her and him to whom she was espoused. Neither did he only respect his mother whilst he was here, but he took care of her too when he was going hence. Yea, all the pains he suffered upon the cross could not make him forget his duty to her that bore him; but seeing her standing by the cross, as himself hung on it, he committed her to the care of his beloved disciple, who "took her to his own home." Now, as our Saviour did, so are we bound to carry ourselves to our earthly parents, whatsoever their temper or condition be in this world. Though John xix. 27. *Luke ii. 51. † Luke ii. 49. |