I have sought the Lord night and day, that he would rather slay me than put me upon the doing of this work.

Of the dissolution of the Long Parliament, April 20, 1653. On that day Cromwell entered the House of Commons, containing about fifty members, and sat in an ordinary place. After taking part in the debate, he began telling the members of their injustice, delays of justice, self-interest, and other faults, until, stamping with his foot, he exclaimed, "You shall now give place to better men!" "You are no Parliament! I say you are no Parliament!" Having called in twenty or thirty musketeers, he turned out the members with, "In the name of God, go!” History recalls with a shudder, says Carlyle, that my Lord General, lifting the sacred mace itself, said, 'What shall we do with this bauble? Take it away!'" Calling Sir Harry Vane by name, Cromwell told him that he might have prevented this; but that he was a juggler, and had not common honesty. "The Lord deliver me from thee, Sir Harry Vane!" All being gone out, the door of the House was locked. The Rump Parliament had gone its 66 ways. They went," says Carlyle, "very softly, softly as a dream, say all witnesses. 'We did not hear a dog bark at their going,' asserts my Lord General, elsewhere." Cromwell, II. 7.

-

Cromwell's language on this occasion finds its only parallel in the remarkably frank expressions of Prince Bismarck, in discussing the emperor's rescript in the German Reichstag, Jan. 24, 1882. Replying to a charge of cowardice, which, he said, was implied in the accusation that he shielded himself behind the emperor's name, he added, "It is only a feeling of loyalty that keeps me in my place: were the king mercifully to release me to-day, it would heartily delight me to bid you farewell, and see no more of you" (wenn ich im Dienste des Königs nicht wäre, und wenn mich der König heute in Gnaden entlassen würde, so würde ich von Ihnen, meine Herren, mit Vergnügen und auf Nimmerwiedersehen, Abschied nehmen).

And let God be judge between you and me.

Dissolving the Second Parliament of the Protectorate, Feb. 4, 1658. He replied to the offer of the title of king in that year,

"Royalty is but a feather in a man's cap: let children enjoy their rattle."

He promoted the influence of England by a vigorous foreign policy, and protected her commerce in the Mediterranean. “By such means as these," he said, "we shall make the name of Englishman as great as that of Roman was in Rome's most palmy days." He approved of the haughty behavior of an English admiral at Lisbon, and declared, "I would have the English republic as much respected as ever the Roman commonwealth was." He also expressed the opinion concerning England's commercial interests, that "a man-of-war is the best ambassador."

"The mighty things done among us," he once said, “are the revolutions of Christ himself: to deny this is to speak against God."

No man ever climbs so high as when he knows not whither he is going.

Paint me as I am.

The shortened form of Cromwell's injunction to the young Peter Lely, who was painting his portrait: "I desire you will use all your skill to paint my picture truly like me, and not to flatter me at all; but remark all those roughnesses, pimples, warts, and every thing as you see me: otherwise I will never pay one farthing for it.”

BISHOP CUMBERLAND.

[Richard Cumberland, born in London, 1632; educated at Cambridge; Bishop of Peterborough, 1691; died 1718.]

It is better to wear out than to rust out.

In reply to some one who warned him that he would wear himself out with his incessant application. Lacordaire said, "It is better to suffer than to decay."

JOHN PHILPOT CURRAN.

[An Irish orator and barrister, born near Cork, 1750; educated at Trinity College, Dublin; called to the Irish bar, 1775, and gained a large practice; entered Parliament, 1783; counsel for the Irish rebels of 1798; master of the rolls in Ireland, 1806; died Oct. 14, 1817.]

When I can't talk sense, I talk metaphor.

MOORE: Life of Sheridan, II. 29, note.

He said of the speech of a certain member of Parliament, "It was like a long parenthesis, because that is a paragraph which may be omitted from beginning to end without any loss of meaning;" and of the speech of one Hewett, "It put me exactly in mind of a familiar utensil called an extinguisher: it began at a point, and on it went widening and widening, until at last it fairly put out the subject altogether."

When asked what he thought of a certain speech in the House of Lords, "made by an able speaker," says Jennings, "but addicted to lofty language," he replied, "I had only the advantage of hearing Lord airing his vocabulary."

His answer to the prosy member who asked him if he had read his last speech, was brief: "I hope I have;" and to the poet who wished to know if Curran had seen his "Descent into Hell" "No, but I should be delighted to see it."

In this case I rather think your lordship takes the will for the deed.

When a judge in a will-case remarked that it was clear the testator intended to keep a life-interest in the estate to himself.

A judge was interrupted in his charge by the braying of a donkey. "May it please your honor, it is only an echo!" suggested Curran.

On one occasion Lord Clare was observed caressing a Newfoundland dog during Curran's argument. Counsel stopped, and, on the judge motioning him to proceed, observed, “I beg ten thousand pardons. I thought your lordship was in consultation."

He said to a judge who threatened to commit him for contempt of court, "If your lordship commit me, we shall both have the consolation of reflecting that I am not the worst thing your lordship has committed."

Lord Clare once said, that if one of Curran's positions were law, he would go home and burn his law-books. "Better read them, my lord," was the retort. This is also told of Dunning, first Lord Ashburton, in reply to Mansfield.

He reminds me of a fool I once saw trying to open an oyster with a rolling-pin.

Of the elaborate but confused exposition of a point of law given by a learned serjeant.

Curran was once

engaged in a legal argument; and behind him stood his colleague, a gentleman whose person was remarkably tall and slender, and who had originally designed to take orders. The judge observing that the case involved a question of ecclesiastical law, Curran said, "I can refer your lordship to a high authority behind me, who was once intended for the Church; though [in a whisper to a friend beside him], in my opinion, he was fitter for the steeple."

A judge, whose wig was a little awry, asked Curran if he saw any thing ridiculous in it. "Nothing but the head, my lord," was his reply.

He was told that he would lose his gown for defending the rebels of 1798. "His majesty may take the silk," said Curran, “but he must leave the stuff behind." A barrister changes his stuff gown for a silk one on being made king's counsel.

My dear Dick, you don't know how puzzled we all are to know where you buy your dirty shirts.

To counsellor Rudd of the Irish bar, who was remarkable for his love of whist and his dirty linen.

Curran was asked what an Irish gentleman just arrived in England could mean by continually putting out his tongue: "I suppose he is trying to catch the English accent," he replied. Being told that a miserly man had gone from Cork to Dublin with but one shirt and a guinea: "that he changes neither until he returns."

"Ten to one," said Curran,

He refused to give a politician a list of Irish grievances, saying, "At my time of life, I have no notion of turning hodman to any political architect."

Having been annoyed by fleas, he said to his landlady, "If they had been unanimous, and all pulled one way, they must have pulled me out of bed entirely."

He saw a broken pane of glass in an obscure alley of Dublin, patched by a page of a very dull book.

"This is the first

time," said he, "that the author has thrown light upon any subject."

The motto he gave Lundyfoot, the rich tobacconist, who was setting up his carriage, is well known: "Quid rides?"— From HORACE: Satires, I. 69.

In his last illness, when his physician said he seemed to cough with more difficulty: "That's rather surprising," replied Curran, "as I have been practising all night."

DANTON.

[Georges Jacques Danton, called the "Mirabeau of the SansCulottes," born at Arcis-sur-Aube, France, 1759; founded the revolutionary club of the Cordeliers; directed the insurrection of Aug. 10, 1792; shared supreme power with Marat and Robespierre, and became minister of justice; arranged the massacre of the imprisoned royalists, September, 1792; member of the committee of public safety; arrested after a struggle with Robespierre, March, 1794; and guillotined April 5.]

De l'audace, encore de l'audace, et toujours de l'audace!

After the insurrection of August, 1792, which in fact subverted the monarchy, the manifesto of the Duke of Brunswick, appointed commander-in-chief of the allied armies of Austria and Prussia, in which he called upon Europe to place Louis XVI. securely on his throne, aroused France to a sense of danger. The revolutionary army under Dumouriez suffered a momentary check by the capture of Longwy and the siege of Verdun. In revenge for the interference of foreign powers, and to show the earnest purpose of the revolutionists, Danton determined upon the massacre of the royalists, who crowded the prisons of Paris. While the tocsin was being struck and the discharge of cannon gave the signal of slaughter, the "tribune of the people" shouted to the dismayed deputies of the National Assembly, "This is a moment to decree that the capital has deserved well of France. The cannon which you hear is not the signal of alarm: it is the pas de charge upon our enemies. To conquer them, to crush them to earth, what is necessary? We must dare, and still dare, and forever dare, and France is saved" (Pour les vaincre, pour les atterer, que faut-il? de l'audace,