points to the distant convent of St. Matthew, where but lately his beloved daughter, Celeste, had died. He calls her a person of "most exquisite mind," for whom he continually grieves. He speaks of her sweet homely attentions-the chocolate biscuit, the baked pear or quince, or cup of preserved citron, the persistent unforgetfulness. He misses her in every way-she had gone out of the world with his liberty and sight.

"The book of nature," says Galileo, "is written in the characters of geometry; when once their meaning is revealed, we may hope to penetrate nature's deepest mysteries." To young Milton the book of nature seems equally written in characters of poesy.

They continue their way to the tower, where reposes the famous telescope, and the blind man says sadly, "We can ill afford to lose one of our senses. The principal doors into the garden of natural philosophy are observation and experiment, and these are opened with the keys of our senses. I am hopelessly blind, so that this heaven and this earth—which I, by my discoveries and demonstrations, had enlarged a hundred thousand times beyond the belief of the wise men of bygone ages— henceforth is shrunk from me into such small space as is filled by my own sensations. I must be content. Of all the sons of Adam, none yet have seen so much as I.” Then, as they return to the house, he remarks, “I have studied and wept too much! Sir, you cannot know the great difference between using one's own eyes and those of another."

It was a gentle pathway along which the young man had come. First, his peaceful London home in Bread Street, where he was born in the year 1608, at the sign of the "Spread Eagle," for in those days houses were known by signs instead of numbers. A lovely home, with its books,

its music-of his own father's composing-and the good cheer and lovingkindness of all. And then, did not the gentle poet, Shakspeare, pass the door now and then on his way to the "Mermaid," a house of entertainment near? Here dwelt the child Milton, the beloved centre of interest to the household and its circle of friends. We can see him, clad in a black braided dress, and with a lace

frill about the neck, watching the grand processions in the streets, and feeding the sparrows at the windows, and playing with his games, or bending over his picture books, or sitting on the high stool before the old organ, picking out some melody to please his ear. He was a studious boy, with a "loveable seriousness," and displayed at a very early age a thoughtful mind, Later on we may see

him going daily to St. Paul's School, eager for learning, devoted to his masters, and striving to excel.

Afterwards he becomes an inmate of Christ's College, Cambridge, where he speeds like a young conqueror through the realms of philosophy, mathematics, and letters. But he finds within him thoughts that have never been told. Language is rich, and it is his. What he thinks he turns into words full of power and music. He stands before the masters and fellows, and grand gay lords and ladies. They listen breathless to his eloquence, and when he ceases there is great applause, and they call him the orator and poet of Cambridge.

While at the university, his good and loving parents transferred their home from busy London to the charming village of Horton, with its green meadows, its skylarks, its old, old trees, and its distant view of Windsor Castle. When Milton, therefore, at the age of twenty-three, had finished with Cambridge, he went to Horton, and lived at home six years. Those were six golden years. In that quiet rural spot he became, for the first time, thoroughly acquainted with nature. Here he wrote some of his finest verses. Here, also, in the quiet of contemplation, certain opinions which he had formed in earlier years became confirmed and strengthened, and ever after influenced his actions and his writings. He believed that a man to be strong must be absolutely pure; that great courage and 'magnanimity are based upon self-respect: that self-mastery with disdain of the luxurious and immoral must be the first conquest; that a great man must be himself unblemished; that a great poet must be himself a poem.

When therefore, after these six years of steady growth, Milton left the home of the loved ones at Horton to travel on the Continent, we have in him a picture of a

perfect manhood; a poet, the basis of whose nature is solid and fixed; a man among men, with a 5Stoic scorn of temptation; a courageous and self-reliant man, who has earned a spotless title to self-respect, which dignifies his whole bearing, and gives it a nobleness that crowns his glorious personal beauty. Such was Milton when on visiting Italy he saw the home of the great Galileo.

1 Gothic, belonging to the Goths. The term is generally applied to an ancient style of architecture, distinguished by its pointed arches and windows, and the richness of its ornaments. Westminster Abbey is built in the Gothic style. 2 mathematician, one who is skilled in mathematics. Mathematics is a general term applied to such sciences as arithmetic, algebra, geometry, which treat of numbers and quantity. demonstration, proof showing the truth of any statement. A magnanimity, greatness of mind or of soul. Stoic, belonging to the Stoics, ancient philosophers who professed to be free from the ordinary passions of mankind, and to be unaffected by such feelings as joy, grief, and anger.

3

AFTER visiting Naples, Milton was preparing to continue his travels through Sicily and Greece, when the news of the outbreak of a civil war in England induced him to direct his course homeward, "deeming it," says his nephew, "a thing unworthy of him to be diverting himself in security abroad, when his countrymen were contending with an insidious monarch for their liberty." He arrived in England just as Charles the First was setting out on his second expedition against the Scots.

Soon he sees that his poetic thinking must be abandoned. The need of strong prose, written on every subject that affected liberty, was greater than the need of the immortal poem, the thought of writing which had occupied his mind for years.

Thus in his thirty-third year his public life began. He wrote 1pamphlet after pamphlet in the interest of freedom and the commonwealth. But while the clear and glowing eloquence of those writings aided the Puritans greatly, it also enraged the cavaliers. By his bold utterances Milton brought upon himself a storm of fury, which lasted through the best years of his life. During this time his domestic life was often clouded. He was early left a widower with three young daughters, and his solitude was rendered the more painful by the rapid advance of blindness. The dependent situation in which he was placed by this infirmity induced him to marry again. His second wife was most tender and affectionate, but she died within a year of her marriage.

But Milton put aside his great troubles in order to serve his country. After the execution of Charles the First, he accepted the office of Latin Secretary to the Commonwealth. In this high office he took an active share in the foreign policy of Cromwell, which is universally acknowledged to have elevated England to the highest rank among the kingdoms of Europe-to have made her respected and feared wherever she was known.

Fourteen years before his death he left public life, with the decision he had come to when entering it. His battle was fought, his country no longer needed his services. He retired to the shelter and seclusion of his home, and in his blindness composed the greatest epic that was ever sung-his "Paradise Lost."

On the restoration of monarchy, Milton was compelled