But, though less popular, Evelyn’s Diary is, I think, in many ways superior to that of Pepys.[1]

There is a quiet, unostentatious dignity about Evelyn which is altogether absent in the garrulous Pepys, and, indeed I find something very beautiful and touching in the grief Evelyn pours forth upon the death of his little son of five years old:—­

“The day before he died,” writes Evelyn, “he call’d to me and in a more serious manner than usual, told me that for all I loved him so dearly I should give my house, land, and all my fine things, to his Brother Jack, he should have none of them; and next morning when he found himself ill, and that I persuaded him to keepe his hands in bed, he demanded whether he might pray to God with his hands un-joyn’d; and a little after, whilst in great agonie, whether he should not offend God by using His holy name so often calling for ease.  What shall I say of his frequent pathetical ejaculations utter’d of himselfe:  Sweete Jesus save me, deliver me, pardon my sinns, let Thine angels receive me!

“So early knowledge, so much piety and perfection!  But thus God having dress’d up a Saint for himselfe, would not longer permit him with us, unworthy of ye future fruites of this incomparable hopefull blossome.  Such a child I never saw:  for such a child I blesse God in whose bosome he is!  May I and mine become as this little child, who now follows the child Jesus that Lamb of God in a white robe whithersoever he goes; even so, Lord Jesus, fiat voluntas tua! Thou gavest him to us, Thou hast taken him from us, blessed be ye name of ye Lord!  That I had anything acceptable to Thee was from Thy grace alone, since from me he had nothing but sin, but that Thou hast pardon’d!  Blessed be my God for ever, Amen!  I caused his body to be coffin’d in lead, and reposited on the 30th at 8 o’clock that night in the church at Deptford, accompanied with divers of my relations and neighbours among whom I distributed rings with this motto:  Dominus abstulit; intending, God willing, to have him transported with my owne body to be interr’d in our dormitory in Wotton Church, in my dear native county of Surrey, and to lay my bones and mingle my dust with my fathers, if God be gracious to me and make me fit for Him as this blessed child was.  The Lord Jesus sanctify this and all my other afflictions, Amen!  Here ends the joy of my life, and for which I go even mourning to my grave.”

This great love and reverence for little children is peculiarly in accord with Christianity, for we should remember that it was the WISE men, who, when they had journeyed far across the world to salute the King of kings, laid their offerings down at the feet of a little child.

Is there not something to reverence in faith and resignation such as are here expressed by Evelyn?  Were not these men of old with their unshakable faith and simple piety better and happier than those who in these days know so much more and believe so much less?