in many years, the citizens of London saw bearded capuchins in their streets. Mass was regularly celebrated in the apartments of St. James's, and even the foundations of a Catholic Church were laid in the neighborhood of the royal palace. The people contented themselves with manifesting their disapproval by low murmurs. Relying on the protection and growing influence of the young queen, the Catholic party raised its head once more, in the beginning timidly and hesitatingly, but afterward more openly and haughtily. Public and secret conversions were no longer rare occurrences, and the relentless Star-Chamber suddenly displayed much lenity and forbearance in this respect. The Church of England, to which the king was earnestly devoted, was by no means as hostile to and different from Catholicism as the other reformed sects. It had retained many ancient rites, and outwardly differed but little from it. Laud, the primate of the kingdom, manifested even a surprising inclination toward Rome and its tenets. The more the people became imbued with Puritan principles, the more determined was the stand which the government and court took in the opposite direction. The Jesuits profited by these favorable circumstances, with their usual shrewd ness and energy. Their agents, one of whom was Sir Kenelm Digby, displayed the greatest activity. They were everywhere secretly at work; they had succeeded in converting many eminent persons, and if the offer of a cardinal's hat should bring about the defection of the ambitious Laud, no insurmountable obstacles would prevent them from restoring England to the bosom of Catholicism. For years past Digby had devoted his whole energy to this great task. Now he had been commissioned to enter into negotiations with the primate, and gain him over by holding out to him so rich a prize. Sir Kenelm did not shrink from this adventure, counting as he did upon the pride and unbridled ambition of the Episcopal prelate. Before setting out from Ludlow Castle, he took leave of all its inmates with studied courtesy and kindness. The Earl of Bridgewater expressed great surprise and regret at his sudden departure. "I am exceedingly sorry," he said, politely, "that you leave us so soon, as I intended to converse with you yet on many important subjects." "I hope to return very speedily, and profit once more by your kind hospitality. Pressing business unfortunately compels me now to go to London." "As you are going to see his majesty, you may render me an important service." "Speak, and I will gladly do all I can for you and your house." "In the first place, I desire you to present to his majesty the assurance of my unalterable loyalty and attachment, and likewise to the queen, your august patroness and protectress." "Do you wish to ask a favor of their majesties?" "Indeed I do, and yet I scarcely venture to ask for it myself, as so many proofs of the royal favor have been lavished on me that any additional demand on my part would look like an abuse of the great kindness of their majesties. I have a son, with whom you are acquainted.” "Lord Brackley ?" "I do not refer to him, but to his younger brother Thomas. He has enjoyed an excellent education, and is a young man of noble gifts, both of the mind and body. Nevertheless, I have reason not to be entirely satisfied with him. He does not profit by his fine accomplishments, but squanders his talents in deplorable idleness. Latterly, especially, I have noticed a by no means favorable change in his bearing and conduct. Instead of devoting himself to his studies, he roams about for days | tion that they will receive your son most grawithout any apparent purpose. He is absent- ciously, and assign him at once a suitable posiminded, inattentive, and shuns society. The tion. On my part, good advice shall not be greater was my surprise, on seeing him so withheld from him, although I may resemble soon on excellent terms with you, and I looked certain preachers whose words are excellent, upon this as a hint given me by Fate." while their deeds are any thing but praiseworthy. However, I have the advantage of being very familiar with the temptations of court life; hence, I am able to caution the youth against the sirens, and protect him from the Charybdis to whose dangers I was likewise exposed." "And I am glad that the youth, who is so amiable, despite your charges, had confidence in me and became immediately attached to me." "I build my plan on this very fact, and hope that you will lend me your assistance. Already for a long time past it was my intention to send my son to the royal court. As a younger brother, he must strive in time to secure himself a position there. Hence, I am very anxious to see him become a member of the household of the king or queen." "I believe you will meet with no obstacles in obtaining such a position for him, although a great many younger sons are flocking to court for the same purpose." "The more necessary is it that some one should intercede in his behalf. You are an intimate friend of her majesty, and I request you, therefore, to speak favorably of him to the queen." "What little influence I am possessed of shall be used in his behalf; however, my intercession is unnecessary. The son of the Lord President of Wales is sure of meeting with a favorable reception." "That is not all I ask for. The inexperienced youth, besides, needs some one to watch over and guide him. If your friendship for him and myself should induce you to take upon yourself the arduous task of guiding his first steps on the slippery ground which he is about to enter, you would place me under the greatest obligations." "Your confidence does me so much honor that I will try to deserve it to the best of my power. I shall mention the subject to the king and my august protectress immediately after my return to London. It is my firm convic "Then be a wise Mentor to him on his lifepath. In the mean time I will prepare him for his new career, and when you return in the course of a few weeks, as you have promised, you may take with you your pupil, whom I would not intrust to any man more willingly than to you." It was with intense joy that Digby took upon himself this task, which could not but draw closer the bonds connecting him with the earl's family. In doing so, he would, as it were, hold in his hands a pledge that would powerfully promote his schemes. For this reason he promised the earl solemnly that he would watch with the utmost solicitude over his son Thomas. The countess renewed her former invitation to him. Alice treated him with less reserve when he took leave of her. "Do not forget Comus," she added, playfully," and do not keep us waiting too long." "Never fear, noble lady; I shall be here in time, and play my part as well as the best actor." "I never doubted it," she replied, archly. On account of his Jesuit companions Digby rejected the offer of the two brothers, who proposed to accompany him on horseback beyond the boundaries of Ludlow. After his departure the whole family concurred in extolling their well-bred and accomplished guest, and all were delighted that he would return in the course of a few weeks. Alice alone was silent and thoughtful. She alone felt an inexplicable | so he took care that his room should always aversion to him whom the others eulogized so present a most attractive aspect. The Latin enthusiastically. Innocence possesses as a and Greek classics, poets, and philosophers, shield a presentiment surpassing by far the stood or lay in old-fashioned cases and on sagacity and experience of the children of the quaintly-carved shelves; and among the repworld. Moreover, another and worthier love resentatives of antiquity were to be seen also protected her heart from the snares of the large folio editions of the fathers of the Church courtier. She loved the poet. and the most renowned theologians. Thus there were here in contact the opposite elements from which that period derived its learning and culture; classical antiquity and Christian theology occupied the same shelves. On the plain table lay an open Hebrew Bible, always the favorite book of the poet, who drew his principal inspiration from its sacred pages. CHAPTER XIII. MILTON'S CHOSEN VOCATION. MILTON'S father had relinquished business several years ago, and purchased a small property at Horton, in Buckinghamshire. Here he lived in moderately comfortable circumstances, which enabled him to educate his talented son with great care. He was distinguished as a musical composer, and devoted himself in his leisure hours, which were not wanting to him, to this delightful and soothing art. Milton's mother was a gentle, quiet lady, distinguished for her piety and rare benevolence. An elder brother of the poet, and a married sister, completed the family circle; and, notwithstanding their conflicting views on some subjects, all were warmly attached to each other. The dwelling was one of those old houses with a gable-roof, of modest appearance outside, but well furnished, comfortable, and cozy within. Despite the limited size of the building, the poet had a study of his own, opening upon the neighboring garden. The small window was fringed with vines and honeysuckle; when he opened it, the sweet odor of flowers penetrated into the room. The walls of the study contained no other ornaments than a large library neatly arranged and always kept in good order; for the slovenly habits of some literary men were utterly distasteful to Milton. As he was scrupulously neat and even elegant in his dress, Milton had passed here many a sleepless night in arduous study and profound meditation: for to him poetry was not the easy pastime of a versatile and vivid imagination, the passing trance of momentary and fastvanishing enthusiasm, but the grave task of his whole life, and the quintessence of the highest and noblest creations of human genius. He intended to enter the temple of the goddess only after passing through the Propylæa of Science. He was fully alive to the great difficulties of this arduous task. Since his return to Ludlow Castle he had laid aside his scientific studies, and occupied himself exclusively, with the mask which he had promised to write. The plan was quickly arranged, and the poet went at once to work upon it with his usual energy. He rapidly wrote down several scenes and sketches of the leading persons. One day his father, who repeatedly inquired after the occupations of his son, surprised him while he was thus employed. Milton concealed nothing from his indulgent parent, but informed him frankly of the object and scope of his poem, and told him all about the adventure in Haywood Forest and his sojourn at Ludlow Castle. The enthusiastic description he gave him of the family of the Earl of Bridgewater, and especially of Alice's grace | hindered or disapproved your predilection for and loveliness, made his tender father thoughtful and anxious. "You know full well," he said, in a more serious tone than usual, “that I have hitherto never interfered with your doings. Other parents would probably have insisted that a son of your age should at length choose a definite vocation and think of gaining a lucrative position. I have thus far refrained from urging you to do so." "And I thank you for it," replied the poet, warmly, seizing his father's hand and pressing it with filial reverence to his lips. "I thank you for your forbearance, although I am sorry to say that my gratitude as yet is confined only to empty words. You have granted me rare freedom since my earliest youth, and always abstained from setting bounds to the course of my mind; nor would you allow me to enter the beaten track, strive for filthy lucre, and hunt after vain and glittering splendor. You did not compel me to take orders contrary to my conviction, and teach things against which my conscience rebelled; on the contrary, you permitted me to enrich my mind, which was thirsting for knowledge, and occupy myself in delightful solitude with my favorite studies. But few parents would have done so; therefore, I thank my fate, which gave me the best and most sagacious of fathers." "For this reason, I suppose you will listen the more readily to my well-meant words?" "Speak, and I shall obey you willingly, for I know that you will give me only the most judicious advice." As Milton saw that his interview with his father would be longer than usual, he hastened to fetch him a comfortable easy-chair, and himself remained standing before him in the most respectful attitude. After a short pause his father said to him: "You will certainly admit that I have not poetry. I always rejoiced in your talents, and received your first works with paternal pride. Nevertheless, I am not desirous that you should devote yourself exclusively to the Muses, for in such a career you will never obtain a competence and prominent position in life. Most of the poets with whom I have been acquainted have had to struggle with care and want; their occupation gains them sometimes honor and fame, but rarely bread enough to feed them. I am willing to admit of poetry as an ornament of life, but it is not well calculated to furnish a man with sufficient means to live upon. Therefore I deem myself in duty bound to recommend another course to you. You refused to take orders, because you said you preferred a blameless silence to what you considered servitude and false teaching. I approved your decision at that time, but you cannot refuse for the same reason to aspire to a position upon the bench. The judiciary is one of our most respected classes. I will neither urge you to make up your mind at once, nor compel you to follow my advice, but give you sufficient time for reflection. You may tell me frankly what you think of my proposition." "I must acknowledge your kindness once more," said Milton, after a short pause. "Like you, I revere Poetry so highly as to be unwilling to degrade her to a servile position and ask from her the daily bread of life. She has nothing to do with our worldly affairs, and where she is used as a means of making money she loses her divine dignity. The life of man is a twofold one. The body demands its rights as well as the mind, and the material world forces itself soon enough upon our attention. Hence, I deem your exhortation decidedly well-timed and judicious. But I should not like to aspire to a position on the bench at this juncture. No one can have a more exalted opinion of the judicial position replied his father, with a than I, but my respect for it lasts only so long | in regard to this matter has been a truly melas the bench preserves its independence from ancholy one that I am determined to struggle external influence. When the despotism of against these abuses to the best of my power. a tyrannical government falsifies justice, vi- At present our schools are nothing but prisons olates the laws, and reduces judges by force both for the body and mind, and our universior persuasion to mere tools, the whole order ties only rob us of seven or eight of the finest sinks even below the level of executioners; years of our lives. They present their young and such is unfortunately the case in England unmatriculated novices at first coming with at this time. Your own experience has shown the most intellective abstractions of logic and you that I speak the truth. Would you ad- metaphysics; so that they, having but newly vise me, then, to become a judge, that is to left those grammatical flats and shallows say, a slave ? where they stuck unreasonably to learn a few "God forbid!" words with lamentable construction, and now gesture of horror. on the sudden transported under another living in evil times. climate, to be tossed and turmoiled with their you choose a definite vocation." unballasted wits in fathomless and unquiet deeps of controversy, do for the most part grow into hatred and contempt of learning, mocked and deluded all this while with ragged notions and babblements, while they expected worthy and delightful knowledge; till poverty or youthful years call them importunately their several ways, and hasten them with the sway of friends either to an ambitious and mercenary or ignorantly zealous divinity; some allured to the trade of law, grounding their purposes not on the prudent and heavenly contemplation of justice and equity, which was never taught them, but on the promising and pleasing thoughts of litigious terms, fat contentions, and flowing fees; others betake them to state affairs, with souls so unprincipled in virtue and true generous breeding, that flattery and court shifts and tyrannous aphorisms appear to them the highest points of wisdom; instilling their barren hearts with a conscientious slavery, if, as I rather think, it be not feigned. Others, lastly, of a more delicious and airy spirit, retire themselves (knowing no better) to the enjoyments of ease and jollity, living out their days in feast and luxI am aware of your aversion to our present ury; which indeed is the wisest and the safest course of all these, unless they were with more integrity undertaken. And these are "I am going to do so, for I am obliged to acknowledge the justice of your wish; but neither theology nor the law would afford me that satisfaction which a man must find in his profession if he is to be useful to himself and others. There is still a third calling which, at this juncture, I must prefer to any other profession. Let me become a teacher of youth. It is only in this calling that I can be useful to the world and my native country. I know well that it is not very lucrative, but if its outward reward is small, its inward one is great. I have long been engrossed in this plan, and it has always seemed to me that the reforming of education is one of the greatest and noblest designs that can be thought of. You smile at my enthusiasm, and think perhaps of our poor schoolmasters who painfully instill the rudiments of science into the untutored minds of ignorant children, or of our professors who from their dusty treatises always repeat the same wisdom to their own disgust and that of others." "It is true, I should not have expected that you would choose such a career, inasmuch as system of education and instruction." "It is precisely because my own experience |