Is it not a miracle, that a man, from a grain of sand to the full and glorious sun, should lay up the world in his brain; and may at his pleasure, bring out what part he lists, yet never empty the place that contained it, nor crowd it, though he should add more? How is it, that in this little invisible place, the height of the stars, the bigness of that, the distance of this, the compass of the earth, and the nature of all, should lie and always be ready for producing, as a man shall think fit? By imagination's help, we call whatever we have a mind to, to appear before us, and in those 'proper shapes we have heard them related in, or else in those in which we ourselves have seen them. What oceans of things exactly and orderly streaming forth, shall we find from the tongue of an orator; that one who did not see him speaking, would believe he read them in some printed catalogue; and he that does see him, wonders from what inexhaustible fountain such easy streams can flow? Like a juggler playing his prize, he pulls words like ribbons out of his mouth, as fast as two hands can draw. Ask him of the sea, he can tell you what is there; of the land, of the sky, of heaven, of hell, of past things and to come. A learned man by his memory alone, is the treasury of all the arts; he walks with a library about him. As the psalmist says of the sun, it goes from one end of the heaven to the other, and nothing is hid from the heat thereof: so the memory with imagination, travels to and fro between the most remoted parts, and there is nothing that is not comprehended in it. And the miracle is; neither after all this, nor before, can any

print hereof be discerned. What is outwardly seen more than a living image? And who can tell me, where this vastness lies? What is to be found there? but a white and spongy substance divided into three small cells, to the smallest of which the memory is ascribed; but not a line nor any one idea of any thing that's absent, can be read there. If putrefactive man can, undiscerned and unburthened, bear so much about him; if so little a point as the least tertia of the brain, the cerebellum, can hold in itself, the notions of such an immeasurable extent of things: we may rationally allow omniscience, to the great Creator of this and all things else. For doubtless we know what we do remember; and indeed what we remember not, we do not know. Nor is the difference hereof in men, less wonder. In some men, how prodigious! in others, how dead and dull! Appius Claudius had so strong a memory, that he boasted he could salute all the citizens of Rome by their names. And Mithridates of Pontus could speak twenty-two languages, and muster his soldiers by his memory, calling them all by their names. And upon this ground, when the senate had condemned his books to be burned, Cassius Severus told them, if they would not have them remain, they should burn him too, for that he had them all in his memory. some of the Thracians were usually so blockish, that they could not count beyond four or five. And Messala Corvinus lived to forget his own name: as I have known some, that have in health forgot their own children, whom they have daily seen and lived

On the other side,

with. Again, many old men, can remember things. of their youth done three-score years ago, and yet not those they acted but the day before. One thing in the memory beyond all, is observable: we may easily remember what we are intent upon; but with all the art we can use, we cannot knowingly forget what we would. What would some give, to wipe their sorrows from their thought, which, in spite of all their industry, they cannot but remember. With good reason, therefore, would the wise Themistocles have learned the art of forgetfulness; as deeming it far more beneficial to man, than that so much criedup faculty of memory. And for this cause, we had need be careful, that even in secret, we plunge not into evil actions. Though we have none to witness what we do, we shall be galled sufficiently, with our own remembrance of it; which haunting us perpetually with all our best endeavours, we cannot either cast away, or blot out. The worm would die, if memory did not feed it to eternity. It is that, which makes the penal part of hell: for whether it be the punishment of loss or the punishment of sense, it is memory that does inflame them both. Nor is there any Ætna in the soul of man, but what the memory makes. I will not therefore care to know, who it is that does me injury, that I may not by my memory, be prompted to take revenge. Remembering the wrong, I may be apt to malign the author; who not knowing, I shall free myself of vexation, without the bearing any grudge to the man. As good actions, and ignorance of ill, keep a perpetual calm in the mind; so, question

less, a secret horror is begotten, by a secret vice. From whence we may undoubtedly conclude, that though the gale of success blow never so full and prosperously, yet no man can be truly happy, who is not truly innocent.

NO MAN IS HONEST, WHO IS NOT SO IN HIS RELATIONS.

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BESIDES the general and necessary dependence which every man must, and ought to have, upon God; there is no man whatsoever, but is, even in this world, particularly related to some person or persons, above the generality of other men. He can neither come into the world nor continue in it, and be an independent man: and by his demeanour, in his strictest relations, he may be guessed at, in his others. Of all the relations which attach to men, those are most binding, which nature has made the nearest, in their several conditions; in which, if a man be not honest, in vain can he be expected to be found so in others, which are more remote. The highest tie of all, (as most concerning the public good,) I take to be between a born subject, and a legitimate prince pursuing the welfare of the country. He is pater patriæ, and his subjects are, but a little more remoted sons. There is, if possible, a greater obligation upon a prince to be good, than there is upon other men: for, though he be human in his person, as others are; yet, for the public's

sake, his person is sacred, and the government he exercises is divine, and, therefore, ought to be administered with the greater care and virtue, that men may gaze on their sovereign with a loving admiration, and obey him with reverence.

On the other hand; if a man be not honest in his relation towards his prince, that is, in his loyalty; he cannot be expected to be honest in any thing, further than as it conduces to his own particular interest. The breach of this relationship, the laws have, as well from natural reason as political considerations, made more capital than other crimes; not only punishing the person offending, but attainting all his posterity with the confiscation of all that they are capable of owning in this life. To be a traitor, delivers one to the lowest scorn of men, as well as to the heaviest punishments of the law. And no state I ever yet read of, but have held such unworthy of life, and so not fit for society, as having failed in that, which makes one man companionable to another. like manner, the parent, who is morose, and unkind to his children, hardly will be affable to any. He who loves not his own, it is not probable will be drawn to love those who are nothing to him. So is it, with a child; if he once despises his parents, he exposes himself to be contemned by others. And to. shew how horrid sins of this nature are, the Levitical law made disobedience unto parents, the worst of its four capital punishments, stoning; nor was he allowed to live, who had cursed either father or mother. Neither can I believe this law was abrogated, in the

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