two bushels full were ordered for the fires lighted for the occasion; and, “as he was expiring, he expressed both his knowledge and approbation of what was done, by throwing out his hands.”  These two bushels full were not, however, all his papers; his more private ones he had ordered not to be opened for seven years.  I suspect also, that a great number of letters were not burnt on this occasion; for I have discovered a manuscript written about 1720 to 1730, and which, the writer tells us, consists of “Excerpts out of Anthony Wood’s papers.”  It is closely written, and contains many curious facts not to be found elsewhere.  These papers of Anthony Wood probably still exist in the Ashmolean Museum; should they have perished, in that case this solitary manuscript will be the sole record of many interesting particulars.

By these I correct a little story, which may be found in the Aubrey Papers, vol. iii. 395.  It is an account of one Nicholas Hill, a man of great learning, and in the high confidence of a remarkable and munificent Earl of Oxford, travelling with him abroad.  I transcribe the printed Aubrey account.

“In his travels with his lord (I forget whether Italy or Germany, but I think the former), a poor man begged him to give him a penny.  ‘A penny!’ said Mr. Hill; ‘what dost say to ten pounds?’—­’Ah! ten pounds,’ said the beggar; ‘that would make a man happy.’  Mr. Hill gave him immediately ten pounds, and putt it downe upon account.  Item, to a beggar ten pounds to make him happy!”—­The point of this story has been marred in the telling:  it was drawn up from the following letter by Aubrey to A. Wood, dated July 15, 1689.  “A poor man asked Mr. Hill, his lordship’s steward, once to give him sixpence, or a shilling, for an alms.  ‘What dost say, if I give thee ten pounds?’ ’Ten pounds! that would make a man of me!’ Hill gave it him, and put down in his account, ‘L10 for making a man,’ which his lordship inquiring about for the oddness of the expression, not only allowed, but was pleased with it.”

This philosophical humorist was the steward of Edward Vere, Earl of Oxford, in the reign of Elizabeth.  This peer was a person of elegant accomplishments; and Lord Orford, in his “Noble Authors,” has given a higher character of him than perhaps he may deserve.  He was of the highest rank, in great favour with the queen, and, in the style of the day, when all our fashions and our poetry were moulding themselves on the Italian model, he was the “Mirrour of Tuscanismo;” and, in a word, this coxcombical peer, after seven years’ residence in Florence, returned highly “Italianated.”  The ludicrous motive of this peregrination is given in the present manuscript account.  Haughty of his descent and alliance, irritable with effeminate delicacy and personal vanity, a little circumstance, almost too minute to be recorded, inflicted such an injury on his pride, that in his mind it required years of absence from the court of England ere it could be forgotten.