Note
tangible benefits; we know how Hampden died that England might be free, first under the martial law of the Great Protector, and afterwards under the Whig Oligarchy. We have read how Cromwell secured Representative Institutions from the attack of Tyrants, firstly by "Pride's Purge," and then by the sterner, simpler method of abolishing the House of Commons. There must be few members of the great Anglo-Saxon family who have not thrilled at the story of the "Mayflower" and its Pilgrims, of those brave men who left their homes in England and settled on the dreary inhospitable shores of the Massachusetts, martyrs in the cause of Humanity. We know how these foes of superstition hanged witches in Salem, how these friends of religious freedom flogged and hanged the Quakers, how the enemies of the cruel Star Chamber caused the savage Indian to disappear from the land; while their allies at home baptized foals in cathedrals, hewed down the statues of the saints, shut up the theatres, and gave us the English Sunday.
All this is common knowledge, but I scarcely think we realize how the Puritan "seriousness" has penetrated all our artistic conceptions. It is this seriousness which has made the success of many recent works of fiction, the names of which I need not men-
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