pope a dispensation from his monastic dress, and ten years later he was absolved from his vows. He travelled much, and resided in several countries, staying two years in England, where he acquired the friendship of Sir Thomas More and others, among the choicer spirits of the time. His death occurred in Switzerland, in 1536.

Erasmus was one of the most effective assailants of the corruption in the Roman Church, and his writings did much to promote the movement of the Reformation; but he had little interest in doctrinal disputes, and was never heartily enlisted under the Lutheran banners.

The most celebrated of the writings of Erasmus were his "Colloquies," from an English translation of which the subjoined passages are taken, and his "Praise of Folly." From his published "Letters," Mr. Froude, the historian, has gleaned a most interesting book.

THE OLD MEN'S DIALOGUE.

(From "The Colloquies of Erasmus," translated by N. Bailey.)

[One of the colloquies of Erasmus is between five old men who had been students together at Paris in their youth, and who meet in a coach after forty-two years of separation. One of the number, Glycion, is observed to show much less appearance of age than his companions, and they beg him to tell them how he has been able to preserve himself so much from the common marks of time. The account he then gives of the manner in which his life has been ruled may be supposed to embody the counsels that Erasmus wished to give.

After telling of his marriage, in which he made his choice "with judgment first, and then loved afterwards," and of his employment, which he carefully selected, Glycion proceeds as follows:-]

Gl. Envy always is a Concomitant of a pompous Felicity, but a Mediocrity is safe; this was always my Study, not to make any Advantage to myself from the

Disadvantages of other People. I embraced as much as I could, that which the Greeks call Freedom from the Encumbrance of Business. I intermeddled with no one's affairs; but especially I kept myself clear from those that could not be meddled with without gaining the ill Will of a great many. If a Friend wants my Assistance, I so serve him, as thereby not to procure any Enemies to myself. In Case of any Misunderstanding between me and any Persons, I endeavour to soften it by clearing myself of Suspicion, or to set all right again by good Offices, or to let it die without taking Notice of it: I always avoid Contention, but if it shall happen, I had rather lose my Money than my Friend. Upon the Whole, I act the part of Mitio in the Comedy, I affront no Man, I carry a chearful Countenance to all, I salute and resalute affably, I find no Fault with what any Man purposes to do or does, I don't prefer myself before other People; I let every one enjoy his Opinion; what I would have kept as a Secret, I tell to no Body: I never am curious to pry in the Privacies of other Men. If I happen to come to the Knowledge of any thing, I never blab it. As for absent Persons, I either say nothing at all of them, or speak of them with Kindness and Civility. Great Part of the Quarrels that arise between Men, come from the Intemperance of the Tongue. I never breed Quarrels or heighten them; but where-ever Opportunity happens, I either moderate them, or put an End to them. By these Methods I have hitherto kept clear of Envy, and have maintained the Affections of my fellow Citizens. Pa. Did you not find a single Life irksome to you? Gl. Nothing happened to me in the whole Course of my Life, more afflicting than the Death of my Wife, and I could have passionately wish'd that we might have grown old together, and might have enjoy'd the Comfort

of the common Blessing, our Children: But since Providence saw it meet it should be otherwise, I judged that it was best for us both, and therefore did not think there was Cause for me to afflict myself with Grief, that would do no good, neither to me nor the Deceased.

Pol. What, had you never an Inclination to marry again, especially the first having been so happy a match to you?

Gl. I had an Inclination so to do, but as I married for the Sake of Children, so for the Sake of my Children I did not marry again.

Pol. But 't is a miserable Case to lie alone whole Nights without a Bedfellow.

Gl. Nothing is hard to a willing Mind. And then do but consider the Benefits of a single Life: There are some People in the World, who will be for making the worst of every Thing; such a one Crates seemed to be, or an Epigram under his Name, summing up the Evils of human Life. And the Resolution is this, that it is best not to be born at all. Now Metrodorus pleases me a great Deal better, who picks out what is good in it; this makes Life the pleasanter. And I brought my Mind to that Temper of Indifference never to have a violent Aversion or Fondness for any thing. And by this it comes to pass, that if any good Fortune happens to me, I am not vainly transported, or grow insolent; or if any thing falls out cross, I am not much perplex'd.

Pa. Truly if you can do this, you are a greater Philosopher than Thales himself.

Gl. If any uneasiness in my Mind rises (as mortal Life produces many of them) I cast it immediately out of my Thoughts, whether it be from the Sense of an Affront offered, or any Thing done unhandsomely.

Pol. Well, but there are some Provocations that would

raise the Anger of the most patient Man alive: As the Sauciness of Servants frequently are.

Gl. I suffer nothing to stay long enough in my Mind to make an Impression. If I can cure them I do it, if not, I reason thus with myself, What good will it do me to torment myself about that which will be never the better for it? In short, I let Reason do that for me at first, which after a little While Time itself would do. And this I be sure take Care of, not to suffer any Vexation, be it never so great, to go to Bed with me.

Eu. No wonder that you don't grow old, who are of that Temper.

Gl. Well, and that I may n't conceal any thing from Friends, in an especial Manner I have kept this Guard upon myself, never to commit any Thing that might be a Reflection either on my own Honour or that of my Children. For there is nothing more troublesome than a guilty Conscience. And if I have committed a Fault I don't go to Bed before I have reconcil'd myself to God. To be at Peace with God is the Fountain of true Tranquillity of Mind, or, as the Greeks call it, evovuía. For they who live thus, Men can do them no great Injury.

Eu. Have you never any anxious Thoughts upon the Apprehension of Death?

Gl. No more than I have for the Day of my Birth. I know I must die, and to live in the Fear of it may possibly shorten my Life, but to be sure it would never make it longer. So that I care for nothing else but to live piously and comfortably, and leave the rest to Providence; and a Man can't live happily that does not live piously.

Pa. But I should grow old with the Tiresomeness of living so long in the same Place, tho' it were Rome itself.

Gl. The changing of Place has indeed something of Pleasure in it; but then, as for long Travels, tho' perhaps they may add to a Man's Experience, yet they are liable to a great many Dangers. I seem to myself to travel over the whole World in a Map, and can see more in Histories than if I had rambled through Sea and Land for Twenty Years together, as Ulysses did. I have a little Country-House about two Miles out of Town, and there sometimes, of a Citizen I become a Country-Man, and having recreated myself there, I return again to the City a new Comer, and salute and am welcom'd as if I had return'd from the new-found Islands.

Eu. Don't you assist Nature with a little Physick? Gl. I never was let Blood, or took Pills nor Potions in my Life yet. If I feel any Disorder coming upon me, I drive it away with spare Diet or the Country Air.

Eu. Don't you study sometimes?

Gl. I do. In that is the greatest Pleasure of my Life: But I make a Diversion of it, but not a Toil. I study either for Pleasure or Profit of my Life, but not for Ostentation. After Meat I have a Collation of learned Stories, or else somebody to read to me, and I never sit to my Books above an Hour at a Time: Then I get up and take my Violin, and walk about in my Chamber, and sing to it, or else ruminate upon what I have read, or if I have a good Companion with me, I relate it, and after a While I return to my Book again.

Eu. But tell me now, upon the Word of an honest Man; Do you feel none of the Infirmities of old Age, which are said to be a great many.

Gl. My Sleep is not so sound, nor my Memory so good, unless I fix anything deeply in it. Well, I have now acquitted myself of my Promise. I have laid open to you those magical Arts by which I have kept Myself young.