poured forth such a rushing and roaring torrent of wit, ridicule, and invective, as in the rapid succession of pamphlets which he published in the course of the year 1589, against the Puritans and their famous champion (or rather knot of champions), who bore the name of Martin Mar-Prelate; unless in those in which he began, two years after, to assail poor Gabriel Harvey, his persecution of, and controversy with whom lasted a much longer time, till, indeed, the Archbishop of Canterbury (Whitgift) interfered, in 1597, to restore the peace of the realm by an order, that all Harvey's and Nash's books should be taken wherever they might be found, and that none of the said books be ever printed hereafter.' Mr. D'Israeli has made both these controversies familiar to modern readers, by the lively accounts of the one in his "Quarrels," of the other in his "Calamities of Authors;" and ample specimens of the criminations and recriminations, hurled at one another by Nash and Harvey, have also been given by Mr. Dyce in his Life of Greene, prefixed to his edition of that writer's dramatic and poetical works. Harvey, too, was a man of great talent; but it was of a kind very different from that of Nash. Nash's style is remarkable for its airiness and facility; clear it of its old spelling, unless it be for a few words and idioms, which have now dropped out of the popular speech, it has quite a modern air. This may show, by the bye, that the language has not altered so much since the latter part of the sixteenth century, as the ordinary prose of that day would lead us to suppose; the difference is rather that the generality of writers were more pedantic than now, and sought in a way that is no longer the fashion, to brocade their composition with what are called inkhorn terms and outlandish phrases, never used except in books. If they had been satisfied to write as they spoke, the style of that day (as we may perceive from the example of Nash) would have in its general character considerably more resembled that of the present. Gabriel Harvey's mode of writing, exhibits all the peculiarities of his age, in their most exaggerated form. He was a great scholar, and his composition is inspired by the very genius of pedantry; full of matter, full often of good sense, not unfrequently rising to a tone of dignity, and even of eloquence, but always stiff, artificial, and elaborately unnatural, to a degree which was even then unusual. We may conceive what sort of chance such a heavy armed combatant, encumbered and oppressed by the very weapons he carried, would have in a war of wit, with the quick, elastic, inexhaustible Nash, and the showering jokes and sarcasms that flashed from his easy, natural pen. Harvey boasted that he had reformed the barbarism of English verse, by modelling it after the Latin hexameter. Nash replied

Covehithe, deserted as it must have been then, was, however, visited by Cromwell's commissioners. Dowsing, who committed fierce onslaught on harmless pictures and peacefully disposed images, thus relates his visit to Cochie or Covehithe: "We brake down two hundred pictures-one pope, with divers cardinals-a picture of God the Father, among others which I remember not. There was four steps, with a vault underneath. But the two first might be levelled, which we gave order to the churchmen to do. There was many inscriptions to Jesus, in capital letters, on the roof of the church, and cherubims, with crosses on their breasts, and a cross in the chancel-all which, with divers pictures in the windows, which we could not reach, neither would they help us to raise the ladders-all which we left them a warrant to do in fourteen days."

But we must hasten a few miles further. Lowestoft, famedand justly—for its herrings, terminates our travels. Its hard sands, and its direct railway communication with London, and Cambridge, and Norwich, make it extremely popular with senbathers. Under the fostering care of Mr. Peto, it promises to be a town of some note. It can also boast its men not unknown to fame; chief among them stands Nash, the satirist. Mr. Craik, a writer of no mean rank, describes him as the most brilliant pamphleteer of this (the Elizabethan) age. He was "the author of one slight dramatic piece, mostly in blank verse, but partly in prose, and having also some lyrical poetry interspersed, called 'Summers' Last Will and Testament,' which was exhibited before Queen Elizabeth, at Norwich, in 1592; and he also assisted Marlow in his tragedy of 'Dido, Queen of Carthage,' which, although not printed till 1594, is supposed to have been written before 1590. But his satire was of a higher order than his dramatic talent. There never was, perhaps,

poured forth such a rushing and roaring torrent of wit, ridicule, and invective, as in the rapid succession of pamphlets which he published in the course of the year 1589, against the Puritans and their famous champion (or rather knot of champions), who bore the name of Martin Mar-Prelate; unless in those in which he began, two years after, to assail poor Gabriel Harvey, his persecution of, and controversy with whom lasted a much longer time, till, indeed, the Archbishop of Canterbury (Whitgift) interfered, in 1597, to restore the peace of the realm by an order, that all Harvey's and Nash's books should be taken. wherever they might be found, and that none of the said books be ever printed hereafter.' Mr. D'Israeli has made both these controversies familiar to modern readers, by the lively accounts of the one in his "Quarrels," of the other in his "Calamities of Authors;" and ample specimens of the criminations and recriminations, hurled at one another by Nash and Harvey, have also been given by Mr. Dyce in his Life of Greene, prefixed to his edition of that writer's dramatic and poetical works. Harvey, too, was a man of great talent; but it was of a kind very different from that of Nash. Nash's style is remarkable for its airiness and facility; clear it of its old spelling, unless it be for a few words and idioms, which have now dropped out of the popular speech, it has quite a modern air. This may show, by the bye, that the language has not altered so much since the latter part of the sixteenth century, as the ordinary prose of that day would lead us to suppose; the difference is rather that the generality of writers were more pedantic than now, and sought in a way that is no longer the fashion, to brocade their composition with what are called inkhorn terms and outlandish phrases, never used except in books. If they had been satisfied to write as they spoke, the style of that day (as we may perceive from the example of Nash) would have in its general character considerably more resembled that of the present. Gabriel Harvey's mode of writing, exhibits all the peculiarities of his age, in their most exaggerated form. He was a great scholar, and his composition is inspired by the very genius of pedantry; full of matter, full often of good sense, not unfrequently rising to a tone of dignity, and even of eloquence, but always stiff, artificial, and elaborately unnatural, to a degree which was even then unusual. We may conceive what sort of chance such a heavy armed combatant, encumbered and oppressed by the very weapons he carried, would have in a war of wit, with the quick, elastic, inexhaustible Nash, and the showering jokes and sarcasms that flashed from his easy, natural pen.' Harvey boasted that he had reformed the barbarism of English verse, by modelling it after the Latin hexameter. Nash replied

by characterising the said hexameter as "that drunken, staggering kind of verse, which is all up hill and down hill, like the way betwixt Stamford and Beechfield, and goes like a horse plunging through the mire in the deep of winter-now soused up to the saddle, and straight aloft on his tiptoes."* The principal production of his native town, red herrings, furnished Nash's pen with a subject to which he did full justice in his Lenten Stuff. Mr. Collier, in his valuable, but most unreadable poetical "Decameron," says, "Nash was a most biting satirist in prose, and he mixt up his severity with so much of the salt of wit and humour, that the rankling wound he inflicted must have been very long healing."

So much for the eastern coast of Suffolk, it contains much to please, much that tells us of other days. It has its associations illustrative of heroism and chivalrous loyalty. Here grew up and flourished many of Charles's most potent cavaliers. It can boast many names that in their day were names of power. No catalogue of Suffolk worthies is complete that omits Wolsey, the son of the Ipswich butcher. Near Southwold is yet shown a bridge that bears his name, and which is reported to have been built by him. Lowestoft for some time was honoured with a visit from the Lord Protector himself. The second Englishman who circumnavigated the globe was Cavendish, a Suffolk man. Eachard the historian; the nonjuring Sancroft; Lydgate, the monk of Bury, one of our most famous versifiers in the fifteenth century; Stephen Gardiner, of persecuting notoriety; the painter Gainsborough; the poets Bloomfield and Crabbe; the great Thurlow, the only man Dr. Johnson dreaded to meet unprepared; were all Suffolk men. Some of the earliest martyrs for the faith once delivered to the apostles came, also, from this part of the world. At one time, too, Suffolk acquired an unenviable notoriety for her witches. Not a parish in the county but could boast its witch. Amongst other apparitions which prevailed at one time in this part of the world, we must note "a strange and terrible wonder wrought in the parish church of Bongay," and narrated by Abraham Fleming, one of our earliest translators of Virgil, who elegantly renders Tu Tityre lentus in umbra, Thou Tityr slug in shade. He tells us that in the year 1577, "this black dog, or divel in such likenesse, (God hee knoweth all who worketh all,) running all along downe the body of the church with great swiftnesse, and incredible haste, among the people in a visible form and shape, passed between two persons as they were kneeling upon their knees, and occupied in prayer as it seemed, wrung the necks of them both at

Craik's Sketches of the History of Learning and Literature in England.

one instant clene backward, insomuch that even at the moment where they kneeled they strangely dyed." Travellers, however, need not fear. Since the establishment of the rural police such distressing occurrences have altogether disappeared.

Thus have we, gentle reader, opened to you a way, by which, escaping from the turmoil of this modern Babylon, you can obtain for yourself a few days of calm enjoyment, with the memorials of other days around you, and the unchanging ocean at your feet. Along the shores by which we have conducted you, you will not be rudely jostled, nor will your favourite corn be stamped on by unheeding and worldly men. The first fine day then you have to spare take yourself and a small carpet bag, the smaller the better, to the Shoreditch station, and suffer yourself to be inclosed in a railway carriage. You will return a wiser and a better man-at any rate it will be your own fault if you do not. You will see written by the great God, himself, the nothingness of human effort. With a humbler and more loving heart you will go back to your cash-box and countinghouse. You will "love not man the less, but nature more, from these your interviews."

HOW WILL IT END?

BY CORNELIUS COLVILLE.

PLEASURE-luxury-reputation, how tempting-how ensnaring to weak and vacillating mortals! Offering so many delights, so many comforts, so much ecstatic bliss; how few have nerve to withstand their temptation and resist them! Their threshold is adorned with everything that can captivate the eye and gladden the heart. A vista stretches before the enraptured vision, the most delightful and beautiful; but alas! the end thereof is not seen! People dazzled with the sight enter; but seldom ask themselves, "How will it end?"

Perhaps, no two human beings were so dissimilar in sentiments and opinions as Mr. Peter Bubbs and his lady. Peter was a lttle, sly, d ry old fellow, with a wonderful deal of saga