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'Tis the custom of some to cast them overboard, and there's an end of them: for the dumb fishes will tell no tales. But the murderer is not so soon drowned as the man. What, is a brother of false blood no kin? a savage hath God to his father by creation, though not the church to his mother, and God will revenge his innocent blood. But our captain counts the image of God, nevertheless his image cut in ebony as if done in ivory.
In dividing the gains, he wrongs no one who took pains to get them: not shifting off his poor mariners with nothing.
In time of peace he quietly returns home.
His voyages are not only for profit, but some for honor and knowledge.
He daily sees, and duly considers God's wonders in the deep.
Travel not early before thy judgment be risen; lest thou observest rather shows than substance.
Get the language (in part), without which key thou shalt unlock little of moment.
Know most of the rooms of thy native country before thou goest over the threshold thereof.
Travel not beyond the Alps. Mr. Roger Ascham did thank God that he was but nine days in Italy, wherein he saw in one city (Venice) more liberty to sin than in London he ever heard of in nine years.
Be wise in choosing objects, diligent in marking, careful in remembering of them. Yet herein men much follow their own humors. One asked a barber who never before had been at the court, what he saw there? “0,” said he, “the king was excellently well trimmed !"
Labor to distil and unite into thyself the scattered perfections of several nations. Many weed foreign countries, bringing home Dutch drunkenness, Spanish pride, French wantonness, and Italian atheism ; as for the good herbs, Dutch industry, Spanish loy. alty, French courtesy, and Italian frugality, these they leave behind them ; others bring home just nothing; and, because they . singled not themselves from their countrymen, though some years beyond sea, were never out of England.
1 "Is not this one of the earliest intercessions on behalf of the poor slaves p"-Basil Montagu. No; for a higher than all human authority proclaimed, fifteen hundred years before, “ All things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them;" which, if obeyed, would break every bond of oppression throughout the world. Light and darkness, virtue and vice, heaven and earth, present no greater contrast than the code of Christian ethics and the slave code.
? This is common to all professions: “I hold,” says Lord Bacon, “that every man is a debtor to his profession, from the which, as men do of course seek to receive countenance and profit, so ought they of duty to endeavor themselves, by way of amends, to be a help and ornament thereunto.”
It is the treasure-house of the mind, wherein the monuments thereof are kept and preserved. Plato makes it the mother of the Muses. Aristotle sets it in one degree further, making experience the mother of arts, memory the parent of experience. Philosophers place it in the rear of the head; and it seems the mine of memory lies there, because there men naturally dig for it, scratching it when they are at a loss. This again is two-fold ; one, the simple retention of things; the other, a regaining them when forgotten. Artificial memory
is rather a trick than an art, and more for the gain of the teacher than profit of the learners. Like the tossing of a pike, which is no part of the postures and motions thereof, and is rather for ostentation than use, to show the strength and nimbleness of the arm, and is often used by wandering soldiers, as an introduction to beg. Understand it of the artificial rules which at this day are delivered by memory mountebanks ; for sure an art thereof may be made, (wherein as yet the world is defective,) and that no more destructive to natural memory than spectacles are to eyes, which girls in Holland wear from twelve years of age. But till this be found out, let us observe these plain rules.
First, soundly infix in thy mind what thou desirest to remember. What wonder is it if agitation of business jog that out of thy head which was there rather tacked than fastened? It is best knocking in the nail over night, and clinching it the next morning.
Overburden not thy memory to make so faithful a servant a slave. Remember, Atlas was weary. Have as much reason as a camel, to rise when thou hast thy full load. Memory, like a purse, if it be over full that it cannot shut, all will drop out of it; take heed of a gluttonous curiosity to feed on many things, lest the greediness of the appetite of thy memory spoil the digestion thereof.
Marshal thy notions into a handsome method. One will carry twice more weight trussed and packed up in bundles, than when it lies untoward, flapping and hanging about his shoulders. Things orderly fardled up under heads are most portable.
Adventure not all thy learning in one bottom, but divide it betwixt thy memory and thy note-books. He that with Bias carries all his learning about him in his head, will utterly be beggared and bankrupt, if a violent disease, a merciless thief, should rob and strip him. I know some have a common-place against commonplace-books, and yet perchance will privately make use of what they publicly declaim against. A common-place-book contains many notions in garrison, whence the owner may draw out an army into the field on competent warning.
RORERT HERRICK. 1591-1662. One of the most exquisite of the early English lyric poets, was Robert Herrick. But little is known of his life. His father was a goldsmith of London, and he was born in that city in 1591. He studied at Cambridge, and took orders in the established church, and obtained a place to preach in, in Devonshire, which he lost at the commencement of the civil wars. At the Restoration he was re-appointed to his vicarage, but died soon afterwards, in 1662.
Abating some of the impurities of Herrick, we can fully join with an able critic in the Retrospective Review! in pronouncing him one of the best of English lyric poets. “ He is the most joyous and gladsome of bards; singing like the grasshopper, as if he would never grow old. He is as fresh as the Spring, as blithe as the Summer, and as ripe as the Autumn. ... His poems resemble a luxuriant meadow, full of king-cups and wild flowers, or a July firmament, sparkling with a myriad of stars. His fancy fed upon all the fair and sweet things of nature: it is redolent of roses and jessamine; it is as light and airy as the thistle down, or the bubbles which laughing boys blow into the air, where they float in a waving line of beauty."
You haste away so soon;
Will go with you along!
We have as short a spring,
Ne'er to be found again.
TO PRIMROSES, FILLED WITH MORNING DEW.
Speak grief in you,
Who were but born
Teem'd her refreshing dew?
That mars a flower;
1 Vol. v. page 156. Read also, remarks in “Drake's Literary Hours."
Nor felt th' unkind
Or warp'd, as we,
Who think it strange to see
The reason why
Ye droop, and weep.
Or childish lullaby?
Or brought a kiss
By your tears shed,
Would have this lecture read, 6 That things of greatest, so of meanest worth, Conceived with grief are, and with tears brought forth.”
Fair pledges of a fruitful tree,
Why do ye fall so fast?
Your date is not so past,
And go at last.
An hour or half's delight,
And so to bid good-night?
And lose you quite.
May read how soon things have
Their end, though ne'er so brave:
Into the grave.
HOW THE HEART'S-EASE FIRST CAME.
Frolic virgins once these were,
THE CAPTIVE BEE, OR THE LITTLE FILCHER.
As Julia once a slumbering lay,
THE NIGIIT PIECE.TO JULIA.
And the elves also,
Whose little eyes glow
But on, on thy way,
Not making a stay,
The stars of the night
Will lend thee their light,
And, when I shall meet
Thy silvery feet