writeth himself, did dedicate Plato and other books in Greek, unto my grandfather, John More, as to one that was also very skilful in that tongue. See what Grineus speaketh unto him: "There was a great necessity why I should dedicate these books of Proclus (full of marvellous learning, by my pains set out, but not without the singular benefit of your father effected), unto you, to whom, by reason of your father-like virtues, all the fruit is to redound, both because you may be an ornament unto them, and they also may do great good unto you, whom I know to be learned, and for these grave disputations sufficiently provided and made fit by the continual conversation of so worthy a father, and by the company of your sisters, who are most expert in all kinds of sciences. For what author can be more grateful to those desirous minds of most goodly things, such as you and the muses your sisters are, whom a divine heat of spirit to the admiration and a new example of this our age, hath driven into the sea of learning so far, and so happily, that they see no learning to be above their reach, no disputations of philosophy above their capacity. And none can better explicate entangled questions, none sift them more profoundly, nor conceive them more easily, than this author."

SIR THOMAS MORE TO HIS DAUGHTER MARGARET.

You ask money, dear Meg, too shamefully (modestly) and fearfully of your father, who is both desirous to give it you, and your letter hath deserved it, which I could find in my heart to recompense, not as Alexander did by Cherilus, giving him for every verse a Philippine of gold, but if my ability were answerable to my will, I would bestow two crowns of pure gold for every syllable thereof. Here I send you as much as you requested, being willing to have sent you more, but that as I am glad to give, so I am desirous to be asked and fawned on by my daughters, thee especially, whom virtue and learning hath made most dear unto me. Wherefore, the sooner you have spent this money well, as you are wont to do, and the sooner you ask me for more, the sooner know you will do your father a singular pleasure. Farewell, my most beloved daughter.

This daughter was likest her father as well in favor as wit, and proved a most rare woman for learning, sanctity, and secrecy, and therefore he trusted her with all his secrets. She wrote two declamations in English, which her father and she turned into Latin so elegantly as one could hardly judge which was the best. She made also a treatise of the Four Last Things; which her father sincerely protested that it was better than his, and therefore, it may be, never finished his. She corrected, by her wit, a place in Saint Cyprian, corrupted, as Pamelian and John Coster testify, instead of "Nisi vos sinceritatis," restoring "nervos sinceritatis." To her Erasmus wrote an epistle, as to a woman not only famous for manners and virtue, but most of all for learning. We have heretofore made mention of her letter that Cardinal Pole so liked, that when he read it, he would not believe it could be any woman's; in answer whereof, Sir Thomas did send her the letter, some part whereof we have seen before; the rest is this, which, though there were no other testimony of her extraordinary learning, might suffice:

In the meantime I thought with myself how true I found that now, which once I remember I spoke unto you in jest, when I pitied your hard hap, that men that read your writings would suspect you to have had help of some other man therein, which would derogate somewhat from the praises due to your works; seeing that you, of all others, deserve least to have such a suspicion had of you, or that you never could abide to be decked with the plumes of other birds. But you, sweet Meg, are rather to be praised for this, that secing you cannot hope for condign praise of your labors; yet for all this, you go forward with this your invincible courage, to join with your virtue the knowledge of most excellent sciences, and contenting yourself with your own pleasure in learning, you never hunt after vulgar praises, nor receive them willingly, though they be offered you. And for your singular piety and love towards me, you esteem me and your husband a sufficient and ample theatre for you to content you with; who, in requital of this your affection, beseech

God and our Lady, with as hearty prayers as possible we can pour out, to give you an easy and happy childbirth, to increase your family with a child most like yourself, except only in sex; yet if it be a wench, that it may be such a one as would, in time, recompense by imitation of her mother's learning and virtues, what, by the condition of her sex, may be wanting; such a wench I should prefer before three boys. Farewell, dearest daughter.

But see, I pray you, how a most learned Bishop in England was ravished with her learning and wit; as it appeareth by a letter which her father wrote unto her to certify her thercof:

Thomas More sendeth hearty greeting to his dearest daughter Margaret: I will let pass to tell you, my sweetest daughter, how much your letter delighted me; you may imagine how exceedingly it pleased your father, when you understand what affection the reading of it raised in a stranger. It happened me this evening to sit with John, Lord Bishop of Exeter, a learned man, and, by all men's judgment, a most sincere man. As we were talking together, and I, taking out of my pocket a paper which was to the purpose we were talking of, I pulled out, by chance, therewith your letter. The handwriting pleasing him, he took it from me and looked on it; when he perceived it, by the salutation, to be a woman's, he began more greedily to read it, novelty inviting him thereunto; but when he had read it, and understood that it was your writing, which he never could have believed if I had not seriously affirmed it. "Such a letter”—I say no more; yet why should not I report that which he said unto me?" So pure a style, so good Latin, so cloquent, so full of sweet affections!" he was marvellously ravished with it. When I perceived that, I brought forth also an oration of yours, which he reading, and also many of your verses, he was so moved with the matter so unlooked for, that the very countenance and gesture of the man, free from all flattery and deceit, betrayed that his mind was more than his words could utter, although he uttered many to your great praise; and forthwith he drew out of his pocket a portegue which you shall receive inclosed herein. I could not possibly shun the taking of it, but he would needs send it unto you, as a sign of his dear affection towards you, although by all means I endeavored to give it him again; which was the cause I showed him none of your other sister's works, for I was afraid lest I should have been thought to have showed them of purpose, because he should bestow the like courtesy upon them; for it troubled me sore, that I must needs take this of him; but he is so worthy a man, as I have said, that it is a happiness to please him thus. Write carefully unto him, and as cloquently as you are able, to give him thanks therefore. Farewell. From the Court, this 11th of September, even almost at midnight.

She made an oration to answer Quintilian, defending that rich man which he accused for having poisoned a poor man's bees with certain venomous flowers in his garden, so eloquent and witty that it may strive with his. She translated Eusebius out of Greek, but it was never printed, because Christopher-. son at that time had done it exactly before. Yet one other letter will I set down of Sir Thomas to this his daughter, which is thus:

Thomas More sendeth greeting to his dearest daughter Margaret: There was no reason, my dearest daughter, why thou shouldst have deferred thy writing unto me one day longer, for fear that thy letters, being so barren, should not be read of me without loathing. For though they had not been most curious, yet in respect of thy sex, thou mightest have been pardoned by any man; yea, even a blemish in the child's face scemeth often to a father beautiful. But these your letters, Meg, were so eloquently polished, that they had nothing in them, not only why they should fear the most indulgent affection of

your father More, but also they needed not to have regarded even Momus's censure, though never so testy. I greatly thank Mr. Nicholas, our dear friend (a most expert man in astronomy), and do congratulate your happiness whom it may fortune within the space of one month, with a small labor of your own, to learn so many and such high wonders of that mighty and eternal workman, which were not found but in many ages, by watching, in so many cold nights, under the open skies, with much labor and pains, by such excellent, and above all other men's understanding wits. This which you write, pleaseth me exceedingly, that you had determined with yourself to study philosophy so diligently, that you will hereafter recompense by your diligence what your negligence hath heretofore lost you. I love you for this, dear Meg, that whereas I never have found you to be a loiterer (your learning, which is not ordinary, but in all kind of sciences most excellent, evidently showing how painfully you have proceeded therein), yet such is your modesty, that you had rather still accuse yourself of negligence than vainly boast of diligence; except you mean by this your speech that you will be hereafter so diligent that your former endeavors, though indeed they were great and praiseworthy, yet in respect of your future diligence, may be called negligence. If it be so that you mean (as I do verily think you do), I imagine nothing can happen to me more fortunate, nothing to you, my dearest daughter, more happy; for, as I have earnestly wished that you might spend the remainder of your life in studying physic and holy Scriptures, by the which there shall never be helps wanting unto you, for the end of man's life; which is to endeavor that a sound mind be in a healthful body, of which studies you have already laid some foundations, and you shall never want matter to build thereupon; so now I think that some of the first years of your youth, yet flourishing, may be very well bestowed in human learning and the liberal arts, both because your age may best struggle with those difficulties, and for that it is uncertain whether, at any time else, we shall have the commodity of so careful, so loving, and so learned a master; to let pass, that by this kind of learning, our judgments are either gotten, or certainly much helped thereby. I could wish, dear Meg, that I might talk with you a long while about these matters, but behold, they which bring on supper interrupt me, and call me away. My supper cannot be so sweet unto me as this my speech with you is, if I were not to respect others more than myself. Farewell, dearest daughter, and commend me kindly to your husband, my loving son, who maketh me rejoice for that he studieth the same things you do; and whereas I am wont always to counsel you to give place to your husband, now, on the other side, I give you license to strive to master him in the knowledge of the spherc. Farewell again and again. Commend me to all your schoolfellows, but to your master especially.

Early Rising and Morning Occupation in Utopia.

Sir Thomas More, in his Utopia (Scheme of a Happy Republic), pictures his ideal people disposing of their time and occupations so as to secure the sufficient use of all their faculties of mind and body. While they gave only six hours to labor, they devoted a portion of their evenings to recreation,-in summer, the early hour after supper in their gardens; and in both summer and winter, to music and discourse; and after eight hours devoted to sleep, "a great many, both men and women, of all ranks, go to hear lectures of one sort or another, according to the variety of their inclinations," which lectures are "every morning before daybreak." In this suggestion he embodies his own daily habit of early rising, and his devotion of those hours to reading, writing, and contemplation.

ROGER ASCHAM AND THE LADY JANE GREY.

[From Walter Savage Landor's "Imaginary Conversations of Literary Men and Statesmen." Volume II., p. 79-84.]

ASCHAM.-Thou art going, my dear young lady, into a most awful state; thou art passing into matrimony and great wealth. God hath willed it so: submit in thankfulness.

Thy affections are rightly placed and well distributed. Love is a secondary passion in those who love most, a primary in those who love least. He who is inspired by it in a great degree, is inspired by honor in a greater: it never reaches its plentitude of growth and perfection, but in the most exalted minds. ... Alas! alas!

JANE.-What aileth my virtuous Ascham? what is amiss? why do I tremble? ASCHAM.-I remember a sort of prophecy, made three years ago: it is a prophecy of thy condition and of my feelings on it. Recollectest thou who wrote, sitting upon the seabeach, the evening after an excursion to the Isle of Wight, these verses?

Invisibly bright water! so like air,

On looking down I feared thou couldst not bear
My little bark, of all light barks most light,

And looked again... and drew me from the sight,

And, hanging back, breathed each fresh gale aghast,
And held the bench, not to go on so fast.

JANE.-I was very childish when I composed them; and, if I had thought any more about the matter, I should have hoped you had been too generous to keep them in your memory, as witnesses against me.

ASCHAM.-Nay, they are not much amiss for so young a girl, and there being so few of them, I did not reprove thee. Half an hour, I then thought, might have been spent more unprofitably; and I now shall believe it firmly, and if thou wilt but be led by them to meditate a little, on the similarity of situation in which thou then wert to what thou art now in.

JANE.-I will do it, and whatever else you command me; for I am too weak by nature and very timorous, unless where a strong sense of duty holdeth me and supporteth me: there God acteth, and not his creature.

Those were with me at sea who would have been attentive to me, if I had seemed to be afraid, even the worshipful men and women were in the company; so that something more powerful threw my fear overboard: but I never will go again upon the water.

ASCHAM.-Exercise that beauteous couple, that mind and body, much and variously, but at home, at home, Jane! indoors, and about things indoors; for God is there too. We have rocks and quicksands on the banks of our Thames, O lady, such as ocean never heard of; and many, (who knows how soon!) may be engulphed in the smooth current under their garden walls.

JANE.-Thoroughly do I now understand you. Yes indeed, I have read evil things of courts; but I think nobody can go out bad thence who entereth good, if timely and true warning shall have been kindly and freely given.

ASCHAM.-I see perils on perils which thou dost not see, although thou art wiser than thy poor old master. And it is not because love hath blinded thee,

for that surpasseth his supposed omnipotence; but it is because thy tender heart, having always lent affectionately upon good, hath felt and known nothing of evil.

I once persuaded thee to reflect much: let me now persuade thee to avoid the habitude of reflection, to lay aside books, and to gaze carefully and stedfastly on what is under and before thee.

JANE.-I have well bethought me of all my duties: O how extensive they are! what a goodly and fair inheritance! But tell me, wouldst thou command me never more to read Cicero and Epictetus and Polybius? the others I do resign unto thee: they are good for the arbor and for the gravel walk: but leave unto me, I beseech thee, my friend and father, leave unto me, for my fireside and for my pillow, truth, eloquence, courage and constancy.

ASCHAM.-Read them on thy marriagebed, on thy childbed, on thy deathbed! Thou spotless undrooping lily, they have fenced thee right well! These are the men for men: these are to fashion the bright and blessed creatures, O Jane, whom God one day shall smile upon in thy chaste bosom... Mind thou thy husband.

JANE. I sincerely love the youth who hath espoused me; I love him with the fondest, the most solicitous affection. I pray to the Almighty for his goodness and happiness, and do forget at times, unworthy supplicant! the prayers I should have offered for myself. O never fear that I will disparage my kind religious teacher, by disobedience to my husband, in the most trying duties.

ASCHAM.-Gentle is he, gentle and virtuous: but time will harden him: time must harden even thee, sweet Jane! Do thou, complacently and indirectly, lead him from ambition.

JANE. He is contented with me and with home.

ASCHAM.-Ah Jane, Jane! men of high estate grow tired of contentedness. JANE. He told me he never liked books unless I read them to him. I will read them to him every evening: I will open new worlds to him, richer than those discovered by the Spaniard; I will conduct him to treasures. . . O what treasures! . . . on which he may sleep in innocence and peace.

ASCHAM.-Rather do thou walk with him, ride with him, play with him, be his faery, his page, his everything that love and poetry have invented: but watch him well, sport with his fancies; turn them about like the ringlets round his cheeks; and if ever he meditate on power, go, toss up thy baby to his brow, and bring back his thoughts into his heart by the music of thy discourse.

Teach him to live unto God and unto thee: and he will discover that women, like the plants in woods, derive their softness and tenderness from the shade.