130. Samuel Pepys, 1632-1703. (Handbook, par. 366.) Secretary of the Admiralty in the reigns of Charles II. and James II. His diary, published in 1825, is one of the most graphic, amusing records ever penned. The following has a sad interest as part of the narrative of the Great Plague.

The Progress of the Great Plague of London.

April 30th. Great fears of the sickness here in the city, it being said that two or three houses are already shut up. God preserve us all!

May 7th. The hottest day that ever I felt in my life. This day, much against my will, I did in Drury Lane see two or three houses marked with a red cross upon the doors, and 'Lord have mercy upon us,' writ there; which was a sad sight to me, being the first of the kind that to my remembrance I ever saw. July 12th. A solemn fast-day for the plague growing upon

us.

13th. Above 700 died of the plague this week.

18th. I was much troubled this day to hear at Westminster, how the officers do bury the dead in the open Tuttle-fields, pretending want of room elsewhere.

20th. Walked to Redriffe, where I hear the sickness is, and indeed is scattered almost everywhere: there dying 1089 of the plague this week. My lady Carteret did this day give me a bottle of plague-water home with me.

21st. Late in my chamber, setting some papers in order; the plague growing very raging, and my apprehensions of it great.

26th. The king having dined, he came down, and I went in the barge with him, I sitting at the door. Down to Woolwich (and there I just saw, and kissed my wife, and saw some of her painting, which is very curious; and away again to the king), and back again with him in the barge, hearing him and the duke talk, and seeing and observing their manner of discourse. And God forgive me! though I admire them with all the duty possible, yet the more a man considers and observes them, the less he finds of difference between them and other men, though (blessed be God!) they are both princes of great nobleness and spirits. The Duke of Monmouth is the most skittish, leaping gallant that ever I saw, always in action, vaulting or leaping, or clambering. Sad news of the deaths of so many in the parish

of the plague, forty last night, The bell always going. This day poor Robin Shaw at Blakewell's died, and Blakewell himself now in Flanders. The king himself asked about Shaw, and being told he was dead, said he was very sorry for it. The sickness is got into our parish this week, and is got, indeed, everywhere; so that I begin to think of setting things in order, which I pray God enable me to put both as to soul and body.

28th. Set out with my lady Sandwich all alone with her with six horses to Dagenhams, going by water to the Ferry. And a pleasant going, and a good discourse; and when there, very merry, and the young couple now well acquainted. But, Lord! to see in what fear all the people here do live. How they are afraid of us that come to them, insomuch that I am troubled at it, and wish myself away. But some cause they have; for the chaplain with whom but a week or two ago we were here mighty high disputing, is since fallen into a fever and dead, being gone hence to a friend's a good way off. A sober and healthful man. These considerations make us all hasten the marriage, and resolve it upon Monday next.

30th. It was a sad noise to hear our bell do toll and ring so often to-day, either for deaths or burials; I think five or six times.

31st. Thus I ended this month with the greatest joy that ever I did any in my life, because I have spent the greatest part of it with abundance of joy, and honour, and pleasant journeys, and brave entertainments, and without cost of money; and at last live to see the business ended with great content on all sides. Thus we end this month, as I said, after the greatest glut of content that ever I had; only under some difficulty because of the plague, which grows mightily upon us, the last week being about 1700 or 1800 of the plague.

Aug. 10th. By and by to the office, where we sat all the morning; in great trouble to see the bill this week rise so high, to above 4000 in all, and of them about 3000 of the plague. Home to draw over anew my will, which I had bound myself by cath to dispatch to-morrow night: the town growing so unhealthy that a man cannot depend upon living two days.

12th. The people die so, that now it seems they are fain to carry the dead to be buried by day-light, the nights not sufficing to do it in. And my Lord Mayor commands people to be within

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at nine at night all, as they say, that the sick may have liberty to go abroad for air.

13th. It was dark before I could get home, and so land at Churchyard stairs, where, to my great trouble, I met a dead corpse of the plague, in a narrow alley just bringing down a little pair of stairs. But I thank God I was not much disturbed at it. However, I shall beware of being late abroad again.

Sept. 3rd (Lord's day). Up, and put on my coloured silk suit very fine, and my new periwig, bought a good while since, but durst not wear, because the plague was in Westminster when I bought it; and it is a wonder what will be the fashion after the plague is done, as to periwigs, for nobody will dare to buy any hair, for fear of the infection, that it had been cut off the heads of people dead of the plague. My Lord Brouncker, Sir J. Minnis, and I, up to the vestry, at the desire of the justices of the peace, in order to be doing something for the keeping of the plague from growing; but, Lord! to consider the madness of people of the town, who will (because they are forbid) come in crowds along with the dead corpses to see them buried; but we agreed on some orders for the prevention thereof. Among other stories, one was very passionate, methought, of a complaint brought against a man in the town for taking a child from London from an infected house. Alderman Hooker told us it was the child of a very able citizen in Gracious Street, a saddler, who had buried all the rest of his children of the plague, and himself and wife now being shut up, and in despair of escaping, did desire only to save the life of this little child; and so prevailed to have it received stark naked into the arms of a friend, who brought it (having put it into new clothes) to Greenwich; where, upon hearing the story, we did agree it should be permitted to be received and kept in the town.

October 16th. I walked to the Tower; but, Lord! how empty the streets are and melancholy, so many poor sick people in the streets full of sores; and so many sad stories overheard as I walk, everybody talking of this dead, and that man sick, and so many in this place, and so many in that. And they tell me that, in Westminster, there is never a physician, and but one apothecary left, all being dead; but that there are great hopes of a great decrease this week: God send it!

29th. In the streets did overtake and almost run upon two

women crying and carrying a man's coffin between them; I suppase the husband of one of them, which, methinks, is a sad thing. 30th. Great joy we have this week in the weekly bill, it being come to 544 in all, and but 333 of the plague, so that we are encouraged to get to London as soon as we can.

Jan. 22nd. The first meeting of Gresham College since the plague. Dr. Goddard did fill us with talk, in defence of his and his fellow-physicians going out of town in the plague time; saying, that their particular patients were most gone out of town, and they left at liberty; and a great deal more, etc.

30th. This is the first time that I have been in the church since I left London for the plague, and it frighted me indeed to go through the church more than I thought it could have done, to see so many graves lie so high upon the churchyards, where people have been buried of the plague. I was much troubled at it, and do not think to go through it again a good while.

Feb. 4th (Lord's day). And my wife and I the first time together at church since the plague, and now only because of Mr. Mills his coming home to preach his first sermon, expecting a great excuse for his leaving the parish before anybody went, and now staying till all are come home: but he made but a very poor and short excuse, and a bad sermon.

131. John Locke, 1632-1704. (Handbook, pars. 340, 346, 459.) The founder in England of experimental psychology; and the manly defender of religious and constitutional liberty.

Of Ideas in general and their Original.

1. Every man being conscious to himself that he thinks, and that which his mind is applied about, whilst thinking, being the ideas that are there, it is past doubt that men have in their mind several ideas, such as are those expressed by the words, Whiteness, hardness, sweetness, thinking, motion, man, elephant, army, drunkenness,' and others. It is in the first place, then, to be inquired, how he comes by them? I know it is a received doctrine that men have native ideas and original characters stamped upon their minds in their very first being. This opinion I have at large examined already; and I suppose what I have said in the foregoing book will be much more easily admitted when I have shown whence the understanding may get all the ideas it has,

and by what ways and degrees they may come into the mind; for which I shall appeal to every one's observation and experience.

2. Let us then suppose the mind to be, as we say, white paper, void of all characters, without any ideas; how comes it to be furnished? Whence comes it by that vast store which the busy and boundless fancy of man has painted on it with an almost endless variety? Whence has it all the materials of reason and knowledge? To this I answer, in one word, from experience: in that all our knowledge is founded, and from that it ultimately derives itself. Our observation, employed either about external sensible objects or about the internal operations of our minds, perceived and reflected on by ourselves, is that which supplies our understandings with all the materials of thinking. These, too, are the fountain of knowledge, from whence all the ideas we have, or can naturally have, do spring.

3. First, Our senses, conversant about particular sensible objects, do convey into the mind several distinct perceptions of things, according to those various ways wherein those objects do affect them; and thus we come by those ideas we have of yellow, white, heat, cold, soft, hard, bitter, sweet, and all those which we call sensible qualities; which when I say the senses convey into the mind, I mean, they from external objects convey into the mind what produces there those perceptions. This great source of most of the ideas we have, depending wholly upon our senses, and derived by them to the understanding, I call sensation.

4. Secondly, The other fountain, from which experience furnisheth the understanding with ideas, is the perception of the operations of our own minds within us, as it is employed about the ideas it has got; which operations, when the soul comes to reflect on and consider, do furnish the understanding with another set of ideas which could not be had from things without; and such are perception, thinking, doubting, believing, reasoning, knowing, willing, and all the different actings of our own minds; which we, being conscious of, and observing in ourselves, do from these receive into our understandings as distinct ideas, as we do from bodies affecting our senses. This source of ideas every man has wholly within himself; and though it be not sense, as having nothing to do with external objects, yet it is