moroseness to the court, and to the courtiers; and left nothing undone which might prevent and divert the king's or queen's favour towards him, but the deserving it. For when the king sent for him once or twice to speak with him, and to give him thanks for his excellent comportment in those councils, which his majesty graciously termed doing him service," his answers were more negligent, and less satisfactory, than might be expected; as if he cared only that his actions should be just, not that they should be acceptable; and that his majesty should think that they proceeded only from the impulsion of conscience, without any sympathy in his affections. He had a courage of the most clear and keen temper, and so far from fear, that he seemed not without some appetite of danger; and therefore upon any occasion of action, he always engaged his person in those troops which he thought by the forwardness of the commanders to be most like to be farthest engaged; and in all such encounters, he had about him an extraordinary cheerfulness, without at all affecting the execution that usually attended them; in which he took no delight, but took pains to prevent it, where it was not by resistance made necessary; insomuch that, at Edge-hill, when the enemy was routed, he was like to have incurred great peril, by interposing to save those who had thrown away their arms, and against whom, it may be, others were more fierce for their having thrown them away: so that a man might think he came into the field chiefly out of curiosity to see the face of danger, and charity to prevent the shedding of blood. Yet in his natural inclination, he acknowledged he was addicted to the profession of a soldier; and shortly after he came to his fortune, before he was of age, he went into the Low Countries, with a resolution of procuring command, and to give himself up to it; from which he was diverted by the complete inactivity of that summer: so he returned into England, and shortly after entered upon that vehement course of study we mentioned before, till the first alarm from the north; then again he made ready for the field, and though he received some repulse in the command of a troop of horse, of which he had a promise, he went a volunteer with the Earl of Essex. From the entrance into this unnatural war, his natural cheerfulness and vivacity grew clouded, and a kind of sadness and dejection of spirit stole upon him, which he had never been used to; yet being one of those who believed that one battle would end all differences, and that there would be so great a victory on one side, that the other would be compelled to submit to any conditions from the victor, he resisted those indispositions. But after the king's return from Brentford, and the furious resolution of the two houses not to admit any treaty for peace, those indispositions which had before touched him, grew into a perfect habit of uncheerfulness; and he, who had been so exactly easy and affable to all men, that his face and countenance was always present, and vacant to his company, and held any cloudiness and less pleasantness of the visage a kind of rudeness or incivility, became on a sudden less communicable; and thence very sad, pale, and exceedingly affected with the spleen. In his clothes and habit, which he had minded before always with more neatness, and industry, and expense, than is usual to so great a soul, he was not now only incurious, but too negligent; and in his reception of suitors, and the necessary or casual addresses to his place, so quick, and sharp, and severe, that there wanted not some men (strangers to his nature and disposition) who believed him proud and imperious, from which no mortal man was ever "more free. When there was any overture or hope of peace, he would be more erect and vigorous, and exceedingly solicitous to press any thing which he thought might promote it; and sitting among his friends, often after a deep silence and "frequent sighs, would, with a shrill and sad accent, ingeminate the word "Peace, peace;" and would passionately profess," that the very agony of the war, and the view of the calamities and desolation the kingdom did and must endure, took his sleep from him, and would shortly break his heart." This made some think, or pretend to think, "that he was so much enamoured of peace, that he would have been glad the king should have bought it at any price," which was a most unreasonable calumny. As if a man that was himself the most punctual and precise in every circumstance that might reflect upon conscience or honour, could have wished the king to have committed a trespass against either. In the morning before the battle, as always upon action, he was very cheerful, and put himself into the first rank of the Lord Byron's regiment, then advancing upon the enemy, who had lined the hedges on both sides with musketeers; from whence he was shot with a musket in the lower part of the body, and in the instant falling from his horse, his body was not found till the next morning; till when there was some hope he might have been a prisoner, though his nearest friends, who knew his temper, received small comfort from that imagination. Thus fell that incomparable young man, in the four-and-thirtieth year of his age, having so much dispatched the true business of life, that the eldest rarely attain to that immense knowledge, and the youngest enter not into the world with more innocency; whosoever leads such a life, needs be the less anxious upon how short warning it is taken from him. EXPERIENCE OF AN EPHEMERAL INSECT. Cicero, in his Tusculan Questions, tells us of a certain river called the Hypanis in Sarmatia, whose banks are frequented by a small winged insect that lives but a few hours. Those which come into the world at sunrise die early in the evening; while those which are hatched at noon, live till nightfall. They differ, however, from other ephemeral creatures in this, that the living generation does not wholly perish with the day; for those which receive life a little before sunset, sleep through the night, and make out the rest of their course next morning. While meditating on this transitory being, it came into iny thoughts to fancy one of those Hypanians, who, by dint of great strength of constitution, and other favourable circumstances, had outlived his contemporaries, and prolonged his earthly career from morning even until the approach of night. During such a term of life, it will easily be imagined what a store of wisdom and experience he would gather what wonders he would witness; what scenes of acting and suffering he would pass through. The swarm of young insects, whose life hath not exceeded an hour or two, approach this venerable patriarch with awe, and listen to his instructions. His recollection of the past seems like a prodigy to their inexperienced minds. At length, towards the close of day, he finds the hour of his departure drawing nigh. He calls around him his family and friends, to bid them a last adieu, and bestow his dying advice and benediction. The fame of his wisdom attracts a multitude from all quarters. They assemble under the shade of a spreading mushroom, and the expiring sage thus addresses them : "My friends and countrymen, I now perceive that the longest life hath its term. The close of mine is fast approaching, and methinks I cannot employ its short remainder better than in leaving the fruits of my experience as a legacy to you. For mine own particular, I cannot regret the prospect of an event which relieves me from the burden of a weary life, and the sufferings of old age. For, alas! what is life but a repetition of paltry pursuits and bitter cares? In my long experience of this world, I have mingled much in affairs, public and private. I have seen mighty changes and revolutions-grievous disasters, and transient prosperity. I have suffered also my domestic trials; I have had my hopes and fears-my losses and gains; and now I find that all is vanity, and that the true philosophic happiness is derived from our own minds. Yet the remembrance of the woes I have seen and suffered, fills my aged eyes with tears, and holds up a warning to young minds to abate their confidence in worldly success. One unhappy generation of my countrymen nearly perished in a sudden shower. At another time, a swarm of gay imprudent youth were swept away by a gust of wind. A dreadful volcano (called by men a limekiln) burst forth in our neighbourhood, and stifled many famílies in a moment. Then came monstrous fowls, with blue wings and forked tails, whose size covered half the heavens, and blotted out the sun, and devoured us by myriads in their remorseless maws. Furthermore, I well remember when the passage of a black cloud embittered our existence with fear for a long tract of time. In those early periods, there were bloody wars between our nation and that powerful people who inhabit beyond the molehills. They are, you know, our natural enemies; a people distinguished for perfidy and rapacity over the whole earth. I led forth our armies to combat; we gained victories; we suffered defeats; torrents of blood were poured forth; our glory was published through the universe. I singled out their chief, of mighty prowess, and renowned for feats of arms, whose stature exceeded my own by a whole hair-breadth. The conflict was terrible; but in the end I triumphed, and the world rung with my fame. Peace was at length restored, and I was sent to negotiate with the enemy. The toils of the field were succeeded by those of the cabinet. What plots and counterplots! What fraud, overreaching, and cajoling! But my labours were crowned with success. I gained for our nation a spacious territory, stretching along the bog, from that willow tree, all the way to yonder ditch. My services were acknowledged by my country, but never fitly rewarded. When at rest from foreign war, we were torn by domestic schisms and factions, civil and religious. We had the Redwings and the Black-wings, the Long-legs and the Shortlegs, the Tails and the No-tails. These things appear to me now as vanity, and I exhort you to peace and union. Yet truth obliges me to own that I never knew a Short-leg who was altogether to be depended on. Being sensible of the importance of perpetuating distinguished families in a state, I have entailed my vast possessions unto the twentieth generation. Yet, after all, what are the ambitions and vanities of this transitory scene? Alas! my friends, when I look back on the pride and ardour of my youth, all appears like a dream. What hopes did I then form, what schemes engage in, what wonders achieve! I constructed the most magnificent cells, I bathed in the purest waters, I sucked the most delicate flowers, I pruned my wings with the nicest care, I gathered store of riches, I boasted of my strength and stature, and thought myself secure from mortal decay. I chased the phantoms of ambition, flattered my friends, circumvented my enemies, but now all is at an end. I tasted, too, the bewitching draught of love, I was torn with jealousy, I was forsaken and undone. In the excess of my despair, I looked forward |