Translation. 



To the most learned man, and his especial patron, E. Perne, 

 most worthy Dean of Ely Cathedral church, Abraham 

 Fleming dedicates. 

 Not many years ago (0 best of patrons) a man most advised in every 

 branch of life ; one who has deserved well of the company of the learned ; 

 bound by the ties of family to yourself ; a most shining light of the 

 University of Cambridge; its jewel and glory, John Cains, wrote not 

 without elegance to Conrad Gesner, a man exceedingly skilled and saga- 

 cious in the investigation of recondite matters ; a man armed with every- 

 thing that relates to natural history ; the same man wrote an epitome 

 concerning British dogs, not so concise as elegant and useful ; an 

 epitome compact of the various arguments and experiences of many 

 minds ; a book which when by chance I had met with it, and was covered 

 with delight with the novelty of its appearance, I attempted to translate 

 into English. After I had finished my task, a sudden conceit arose in 

 me touching the dedication of the pamphlet, and after tossing many 

 thoughts to and fro, the recollections (most ornate sir) of your benefits,, 

 as a ruddy star, by the splendour of its radiance, dissipates the misty 

 clouds of the most foul oblivion, and brings a serenity brighter than 

 that of the sun to the memory, shone on me ; and that sentiment of 

 - duty which shaken by the most deadly bolts of hostile fortune torn and 

 convulsed, had almost died, collected its shattered and most weakened 

 strength, recovered its pristine vigour, and at last, from that bog of 

 Lethe, nobly extricated itself and emerged. Out of which whirlpool as soon 

 as it had escaped, it so flourished and so increased that it caught every 

 cell of my mind under the influence of its rule and command. Now, 

 however, I cease not to be occupied in the contemplation of your merits, 

 the magnitude of which can scarcely be circumscribed in my thin coarse 

 and slight thread of speech. This fact, by Jove, does not move me lightly, 

 distresses me in no common manner, and pricks me with no shallow 

 wound. There is besides another cause, which makes me pause, and in 

 some manner tortures me, namely the suspicion of ingratitude, from 

 which, as from another Lemean hydra, I have ever fled (as the phrase 

 runs) with Achillean feet, and still I very much fear lest delay and pro- 

 crastination of my duty brand my name with a shameful mark of care- 

 lessness. This so much the more I fear because that truth and common 

 verse of the poet comes into my mind 



It is a shame always to receive and never to give. 

 But (O most ornate Sir !) however the fear of that ill mightily stirs and 



