“Thou Atomi ridiculous, Whereof old Democrite and Hill Nicholas, One said, the other swore, the world consists.” Glancing our eye adown the long roll, we distinguish the name of Whitelocke, who was indebted for much of his education to Laud, and who, when that prelate was in difficulty, refused to act on the committee whose members had determined to push that difficulty to death. Pious Juxon, the poetic Lodge, and honest Foster, the country clergyman,—who wrote a treatise called ‘_Hoplocrissma Spongus_, or a sponge to wipe away the weapon-salve, wherein is proved that the cure taken up among us by applying the salve to the weapon is magical and unlawful,’—these follow; and, not less honoured, succeed the names of Sutton and Buckland,—the first, zealous Reformer; the second, as zealous Romanist. To these may be added Wilde, the dramatist; Jones, the ornament of the English Benedictines; tuneful Shirley, a greater dramatist than Wilde; and Hutton, who was distinguished for his learning in French and Italian as well as in classical literature. Further we find Dr. Speed, the son of the chronologist; William Meaux or Meuse, who is described as having “entered in the physick line;” the loyal divines Walwyn, Good, and Edwards; and a host of men less known to fame, and who were expelled the University for being consistent in their political opinions. Calamy is a name not to be omitted; and Archdeacon Layfield is remembered as the clergyman who was punished for having the letters I. H. S. in his church, by being dragged in his surplice through the City, and who refused to pay either fifteen hundred pounds or five to save himself from being sold to the Algerines or the Plantations. Snelling, the tragic writer; Howe, the naturalist; Frank Goldsmith, who wrote for love and not for hire; Gayten, pleasant author of ‘Pleasant Notes upon Don Quixote;’ Hewit, the clergyman, executed for loyalty to the cause of Charles, and whom his old schoolfellow Wilde attended on the scaffold; and perhaps greater than all, Davenant the commentator, brother to the laureate, and son to Shakspeare’s melancholic host at Oxford, were others of the _alumni_ of our house. Nor must I omit the name of Will Quarles; Calamy and Shirley, men even more noted, I have already incidentally mentioned: they both died within the same week, of fright caused by the Great Fire of London, a catastrophe which made a poet of another “Merchant Tailor,” the well-known Markland. Indeed a great many of the pupils became at least respectable poets, which is, after all, no great praise, as applied to the sons of song.