3. HOW TO SPEND OUR DAYS.- (FROM HALL'S "LETTERS:" SIXTH DECADE, EPISTLE I., TO LORD DENNY.)

Every day is a little life: and our whole life is but a day repeated: whence it is, that old Jacob numbers his life by days; and Moses desires to be taught this point of holy arithmetic, to number, not his years, but his days. Those, therefore, that dare lose a day are dangerously prodigal; those that dare mis-spend it, desperate. We can best teach others by ourselves: let me tell your lordship how I would pass my days, that you, or whosoever others overhearing me, may either approve my thriftiness, or correct my errors.

First, therefore, I desire to awake at those hours, not when I will, but when I must: pleasure is not a fit rule for rest, but health: neither do I consult so much with the sun as mine own necessity, whether of body, or in that of the mind. If this vassal could well serve me waking it should never sleep; but now it must be pleased that it may be serviceable. Now, when sleep is rather driven away than leaves me, I would ever awake with God. My first thoughts are for Him, who made the night for rest, and the day for travel; and, as He gives, so blesses both. If my heart be early seasoned with His presence, it will savour of Him all day after. While my body is dressing, not with an effeminate curiosity, nor yet with rude neglect, my mind addresses itself to her ensuing task; bethinking what is to be done, and in what order; and marshalling, as it may, my hours with my work.

That done, after some while meditation, I walk up to my masters and companions, my books; and, sitting down amongst them, with the best contentment, I dare not reach forth my hand to salute any of them till I have first looked up to heaven, and craved favour of Him to whom all my studies are duly referred, without whom I can neither profit nor labour. After this, out of no over-great variety, I call forth those which may best fit my occasions; wherein I am not too scrupulous of age: sometimes I put myself to school, to one of those ancients, whom the Church hath honoured with the name of fathers, whose volumes I confess not to open without a secret reverence of their holiness and gravity: sometimes to those latter doctors, which want nothing but age to make them classical : always to God's Book. That day is lost whereof some hours are not improved in those divine monuments: others I turn over out of choice; these out of duty.

Ere I can have sat unto weariness, my family, having now overcome all household distractions, invites me to our common devotions, not without some short preparation. These, heartily performed, send me up with a more strong and cheerful appetite to my former work, which I find made easy to me by intermission and variety. Now, therefore, can I deceive the hours with change of pleasures, that is, of labours. One while, mine eyes are busied ; another while, my hand; and sometimes, my mind takes the burden

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from them both; wherein I would imitate the skilfullest cooks, which make the best dishes with manifold mixtures. One hour is spent in textual divinity, another in controversy, histories relieve them both. Now, when the mind is weary of other labours, it begins to undertake its own: sometimes it meditates and winds up for future use; sometimes it lays forth her conceits into present discourse; sometimes for itself, often for others. Neither know I whether it works or plays in these thoughts: I am sure no sport hath more pleasure, no work more use; only the decay of a weak body makes me think these delights insensibly laborious.

Thus could I, all day, as ringers use, make myself music with changes; and complain sooner of the day for shortness, than of the business for toil; were it not that this faint monitor interrupts me still in the midst of my busy pleasures, and enforces me both to respite and repast. I must yield to both: while my body and mind are joined together in those unequal couples, the better must follow the weaker.

Before my meals, therefore, and after, I let myself loose from all my thoughts; and now would forget that I ever studied. A full mind takes away the body's appetite, no less than a full body wakes a dull and unwieldy mind. Company, discourse, recreations, are now seasonable and welcome. These prepare me for a diet, not gluttonous, but medicinal: the palate may not be pleased, but the stomach; nor that for its own sake. Neither would I think any of these comforts worth respect in themselves, but in their use, in their end; so far as they may enable me to better things. If I see any dish to tempt my palate, I fear a serpent in that apple ; and would please myself in a wilful denial. I rise capable of more, not desirous: not now immediately from my trencher to my book; but after some intermission. Moderate speed is a sure help to all proceedings; where those things which are prosecuted with violence of endeavour or desire, either succeed not, or continue not.

:

After my latter meal my thoughts are slight; only my memory may be charged with her task of recalling what was committed to her custody in the day and my heart is busy in examining my hands, and mouth, and all other senses, of that day's behaviour. And, now the evening is come, no tradesman doth more carefully take in his wares, clear his shopboard, and shut his windows, than I would shut up my thoughts and clear my mind. That student shall live miserably which, like a camel, lies down under his burden. All this done, calling together my family, we end the day with God.

I grant, neither is my practice worthy to be exemplary, neither are our callings proportionable. The lives of a nobleman, of a courtier, of a scholar, of a citizen, of a countryman, differ no less than their dispositions: yet must all conspire in honest labour. Sweat is the destiny of all trades, whether of the brows or of the

1 i. e., This use of the word enable is characteristic of Hall's age.

mind. God never allowed any man to do nothing. How miserable is the condition of those men which spend the time as if it were given to them, and not lent!-as if hours were waste creatures, and such as should never be accounted for !-as if God would take this for a good bill of reckoning :-" Item, spent upon my pleasures forty years." These men shall once find that no blood can privilege idleness, and that nothing is more precious to God than that which they desire to cast away—time.

4. OCCASIONAL MEDITATIONS.

1. On occasion of a redbreast coming into his chamber and singing. Pretty bird, how cheerfully dost thou sit and sing, and yet knowest not where thou art, nor where thou shalt make thy next meal, and at night must shroud thyself in a bush for lodging! What a shame is it for me, that see before me so liberal provisions of my God, and find myself set warm under my own roof, yet am ready to droop under a distrustful and unthankful dulness! Had I so little certainty of my harbour and purveyance, how heartless should I be, how careful, how little list1 should I have, to make music to thee or myself! Surely thou camest not hither without a providence. God sent thee, not so much to delight as to shame me, but all in a conviction of my sullen unbelief, who, under more apparent means, am less cheerful and confident. Reason and faith have not done so much in me, as in thee mere instinct of nature. Want of foresight makes thee more merry, if not more happy, here, than the foresight of better things maketh me.

O God, Thy providence is not impaired by those powers Thou hast given me above these brute things: let not my greater helps hinder me from a holy security and comfortable reliance upon Thee!

The

2. On the sight of a crow pulling off wool from the back of a sheep.-How well these creatures know whom they may be bold with! That crow durst not do this to a wolf or a mastiff. known simplicity of this innocent beast gives advantage to this presumption.

Meekness of spirit commonly draws on injuries. The cruelty of ill natures usually seeks out those not who deserve worst, but who will bear most. Patience and mildness of spirit is ill bestowed where it exposes a man to wrong and insultation. Sheepish dispositions are best to others, worst to themselves. I could be willing to take injuries; but I will not be guilty of provoking them by levity for harmlessness, let me go for a sheep, but whosoever will be tearing my fleece, let him look to himself.

3. On the sight of two snails.-There is much variety, even in creatures of the same kind. See these two snails. One hath a house, the other wants it; yet both are snails; and it is a question

1 i. e., Pleasure, inclination.

FROM THE CONTEMPLATIONS: SHIMEI CURSING.

105 whether case is the better. That which hath a house hath more shelter; but that which wants it hath more freedom. The privilege of that cover is but a burden; you see, if it hath but a stone to climb over, with what stress it draws up that beneficial load, and, if the passage prove strait, finds no entrance; whereas the empty snail makes no difference of way.

Surely it is always an ease, and sometimes a happiness, to have nothing. No man is so worthy of envy as he that can be cheerful

in want.

4. On the flies gathering to a galled horse.-How these flies swarm to the galled part of this poor beast, and there sit, feeding upon that worst piece of his flesh, not meddling with the other sound parts of his skin! Even thus do malicious tongues of detractors; if a man have any infirmity in his person or actions, that they will be sure to gather unto and dwell upon; whereas his commendable parts and well-deservings are passed by without mention, without regard. It is an envious self-love and base cruelty that causeth this ill disposition in men. In the meantime, this only they have gained: it must needs be a filthy creature that feeds upon nothing but corruption.

5. On the sound of a cracked bell.-What a harsh sound doth this bell make in every ear! The metal is good enough; it is the rift that makes it so unpleasingly jarring.

How too like is this bell to a scandalous and ill-lived teacher! His calling is honourable; his noise is heard far enough; but the flaw which is noted in his life mars his doctrine, and offends those ears which else would take pleasure in his teaching. It is possible that such a one, even by that discordous noise, may ring in others into the triumphant church of heaven; but there is no remedy for himself but the fire, whether for his reforming or judgment.

6. On the whetting of a scythe.-Recreation is intended to the mind as whetting is to the scythe, to sharpen the edge of it, which otherwise would grow dull and blunt. He, therefore, that spends his whole time in recreation is ever whetting, never mowing; his grass may grow, and his steed starve. As contrarily, he that always toils and never recreates, is ever mowing, never whetting; labouring much to little purpose: as good no scythe as no edge. Then only doth the work go forward when the scythe is so seasonably and moderately whetted that it may cut, and so cuts that it may have the help of sharpening. I would so interchange, that I neither be dull with work nor idle and wanton with recreation.

5. FROM THE CONTEMPLATIONS.—(BOOK XVI., CONTEMPLATION I. SHIMEI CURSING. II. SAMUEL XVI.)

With a heavy heart, and a covered head, and a weeping eye, and bare feet, is David gone away from Jerusalem. Never did he with more joy come up to this city, than now he left it with sorrow:

how could he do otherwise, whom the insurrection of his own son drove out from his house,—from his throne,—from the ark of God? And now, when the depth of this grief deserved nothing but compassion, the foul mouth of Shimei entertains David with curses. There is no small cruelty in the picking out of a time for mischief. That word could scarce gall at one season which at another killeth. The same shaft, flying with the wind, pierces deep, which, against it, can hardly find strength to stick upright. The valour and justice of children condemns it for injuriously cowardly to strike their adversary when he is once down. It is the murder of the tongue to insult upon those whom God hath humbled, and to draw blood of that back which is yet blue from the hand of the Almighty. If Shimei had not presumed upon David's dejection, he durst not have been thus bold; now he, that perhaps durst not have looked at one of these worthies single, defies them all at once, and doth both cast and speak stones against David and all his army. The malice of base spirits sometimes carries them further than the courage of the valiant.

In all the time of David's prosperity, we heard no news of Shimei. His silence and colourable obedience made him pass for a great subject; yet all that while was his heart unsound and traitorous. Peace and good success hide many a false heart, like as the snowdrift covers a heap of dung, which, once melting away, descries the rottenness that lay within. Honour and welfare are but flattering glasses of men's affections. Adversity will not deceive us, but will make a true report; as of our own powers, so of the disposition of others.

He that smiled on David in his throne, curseth him in his flight. If there be any quarrels, any exceptions to be taken against a man, let him look to have them laid in his dish when he fares the hardest. This practice have wicked men learned of their master, to take the utmost advantage of our afflictions. He that suffers had need to be double-armed, both against pain and censure.

Every word of Shimei was a slander. He that took Saul's spear from his head, and repented to have but cut the lap of his garment, is reproached as a man of blood. The man after God's own heart is branded for a man of Belial. He that was sent for out of the fields to be anointed, is taxed for an usurper. If David's hand were stained with blood, yet not of Saul's house, it was his servant, not his master, that bled by him; yet is the blood of the Lord's anointed cast in David's teeth by the spite of a false tongue. Did we not see David, after all the proofs of his humble loyalty, shedding the blood of that Amalekite who did but say he shed Saul's? Did we not hear him lament passionately for the doath of so ill a master, chiding the mountains of Gilboa on which he fell, and angrily wishing that no dew might fall where that blood was poured out; and charging the daughters of Israel to weep over Saul, who had clothed them in scarlet? Did we not hear and see him inquiring for any remainder of the house of Saul, that he