gagement from outward things, that it may enter into itself and contemplate its true interests; this is a wise self-love. The second is, to join to this the idea of God whom it fears; this is the feeble beginning of true wisdom; but the soul is still fixed upon itself: it is afraid that it does not fear God enough it is still thinking of itself. These anxieties about ourselves are far removed from that peace and liberty, which a true and simple love inspires; but it is not yet time for this; the soul must pass through this trouble; this operation of the Spirit of God in our hearts comes to us gradually; we approach step by step to this simplicity.

In the third and last state we begin to think of God more frequently, we think of ourselves less, and insensibly we lose ourselves in him. The more gentle and docile the soul is, the more it advances in this simplicity. It does not become blind to its own defects and unconscious of its imperfections; it is more than ever sensible of them; it feels a horror of the slightest sin; it sees more clearly its own corruption; but this sensibility does not arise from dwelling upon itself, but by the light from the presence of God we see how far removed we are from infinite purity. Thus simplicity is free in its course, since it makes no preparation; but it can only belong to the soul that is purified by a true penitence. It must be the fruit of a perfect renunciation of self and an unreserved love of God. But though they who become penitents, and tear themselves from the vanities of the world, make self the object of thought, yet they must avoid an excessive and unquiet occupation with themselves, such as would trouble, and embarrass, and retard them in their progress. Dwelling too much upon self produces in weak minds useless scruples and superstition, and in stronger minds a presumptuous wisdom. Both are contrary to true simplicity, which is free and direct, and gives itself up without reserve and with a generous self-forgetfulness to the Father of spirits. How free, how intrepid are the motions, how glorious the progress that the soul makes when delivered from all low, and interested, and unquiet cares.

If we desire that our friends be simple and free with us, disencumbered of self in their intimacy with us, will

it not please God, who is our truest friend, that we should surrender our souls to him, without fear or reserve, in that holy and sweet communion with himself which he allows us? It is this simplicity which is the perfection of the true children of God. This is the end that we must have in view, and to which we must be continually advancing. This deliverance of the soul from all useless, and selfish, and unquiet cares, brings to it a peace and freedom that are unspeakable.

But some will say, "Must we never think of self? We need not practise this constraint; in trying to be simple we may lose simplicity. What then must we do?" Make no rule about it, but feel satisfied that you affect nothing. When you are disposed to speak of yourself from vanity, you can only repress this strong desire by thinking of God, or what you are called upon by him to do. Simplicity does not consist in false shame or false modesty any more than in pride or vainglory. When vanity would lead to egotism, we have only to turn from self; when, on the contrary, there is a necessity of speaking of ourselves, we must not reason too much about it, we must look straight at the end. "But what will they think of me? They will think I am boasting; I shall be suspected in speaking so freely of my own concerns." None of these unquiet reflections should trouble us for one moment. Let us speak freely, ingenuously, and simply of ourselves, when we are called upon to speak. It is thus that St. Paul spoke often in his epistles. What true greatness there is in speaking with simplicity of one's self! Vainglory is sometimes hidden under an air of modesty and reserve. People do not wish to proclaim their own merit, but they would be very glad that others should discover it. As to the matter of speaking against ourselves, I do not either blame or recommend it. When it arises from true simplicity, and that hatred with which God inspires us of our sins, it is admirable, and thus I regard it in many holy men. But usually the surest and most simple way is not to speak unnecessarily of one's self, either good or evil.-Translation of ELIZA L. FOLLEN.

FREEDOM OF THE WILL.

Another mystery that I bear within me, and that renders me incomprehensible to myself, is that on the one hand I am free, and on the other, dependent. Independence is the supreme perfection. The Creator must be the cause of all the modifications of His creation. The being who is dependent for his nature must be so for all its operations. Thus God is the cause of all the combinations and movements of everything in the universe. It is He who has created all that is. But I am free, and I cannot doubt it; I have an intimate and immovable conviction that I am free to will, or not to will. There is within me a power of election, not only to will or will not, but to decide between different objects. This is in itself a proof of the immateriality of my soul. What is material, corporeal, cannot choose; it is, on the contrary, governed by fixed laws, that are called physical, that are necessary, invincible, and contrary to what I call liberty. In saying, then, that I am free, I say that my will is fully in my power, and that God leaves me to use it as I am disposed; that I am not determined by a law like other beings, but I will of myself. I conceive that if the Supreme Being were beforehand to inspire me with a will to do right, I have the power to reject the inspiration, however great it might be, to frustrate its effect, and to refuse my consent. I conceive, also, that when I reject his inspiration to do right, I have actually the power not to reject it, just as I have the power to open or shut my eyes. Outward things may solicit me by all that is most captivating, the most powerful and affecting arguments may be presented to influence me, the Supreme Being may touch my heart with the most persuasive inspiration; but I still remain free to will or not to will. It is this exemption from all restraint and from all necessity, this empire over my own actions, that makes me inexcusable when I will what is evil, and praiseworthy when I will what is good.

This is the foundation of all merit and demerit; it is this that makes the justice of reward or punishment. Hence it is that we exhort, reprove, menace, or prom.

ise. This is the foundation of all government, of all instruction, and of all rules of conduct. Everything in human life brings us to this conclusion, that there is nothing over which we have such entire control, as our own wills; and that we have this free will, this power of election, between two things equally in our reach. It is this truth that the shepherds sing among the mountains, that merchants and artisans take for granted in their negotiations, that the actor represents on the stage; the magistrate recognizes it in his decisions, and learned doctors teach it in their schools; it is what no man of sense can seriously doubt. This truth imprinted on our hearts is acknowledged in the practice of those philosophers who attempt to overthrow it by their chimerical speculations. The internal evidence of this truth is like that we have of those first principles, which have no need of demonstration, and by which we prove other truths less certain.-Translation of ELIZA L. FOLLEN.

FENN, SIR JOHN, an English antiquary, born at Norwich, November 26, 1739; died February 14, 1794. He was a country gentleman of Norfolkshire. He has a claim to a place in literary history mainly on account of having edited a large series of family papers known as The Paston Letters, written by various persons of rank and consequence during the reigns of Henry VI., Edward IV., and Richard III. (1420-1485). The first publication of these letters was in 1787, in two quarto volumes; a third and fourth volume appeared in 1789; in 1823 a fifth volume was added, bringing the correspondence down to 1509. The Paston Letters have been several times reprinted; the most convenient form being in "Bohn's Antiquarian Library" (2 vols., 1849). A new and greatly enlarged edition, under the care of James Gairdner, was published in 1872-75. The following letter, by Dame Agnes Paston (1458), shows the way in which gentlewomen of that day wrote the English language:

DAME PASTON'S LETTER OF INSTRUCTIONS. Erands to London of Augnes Paston the xxviii day of Jenure, the yer of Kyng Henry the Sext, xxxvi. To prey Grenefeld to send me feythfully word, by wrytyn, who Clement Paston hath do his dever in lernyng. And if he hathe nought do well, nor wyll nought amend, prey hym that he will trewly belassch hym, tyl he wyll amend; and so ded the last maystr, and the best