their Parishioners, unless upon such conditions, and in such a manner, as they could not with a good conscience take it. This he mentioned with much sorrow, saying, 'The blessed Sacrament did, even by way of preparation for it, give occasion to all conscientious receivers to examine the performance of their vows, since they received that last seal for the pardon of their sins past; and also to examine and re-search their hearts, and make penitent reflections on their failings; and, that done, to bewail them seriously, and then make new vows or resolutions to obey all God's commands better, and beg His grace to perform them. And that this being faithfully done, then the Sacrament repairs the decays of grace, helps us to conquer infirmities, gives us grace to beg God's grace, and then gives us what we beg; makes us still hunger and thirst after His righteousness, which we then receive, and being assisted with our own endeavours, will still so dwell in us, as to become our sanctification in this life, and our comfort on our last sick-beds.' The want of this blessed benefit he lamented much, and pitied their condition that desired, but could not obtain it.

I hope I shall not disoblige my reader, if I here enlarge into a further character of his person and temper. As first, that he was moderately tall: his behaviour had in it much of a plain comeliness, and very little, yet enough, of ceremony or courtship; his looks and motion manifested an endearing affability and mildness, and yet he had with these a calm, and so matchless a fortitude, as secured him from complying with any of those many Parliament injunctions, that interfered with a doubtful conscience. His learning was methodical and exact, his wisdom useful, his integrity visible, and his whole life so unspotted, so like the Primitive Christians, that all ought to be preserved as copies for posterity to write after; the Clergy especially, who with impure hands ought not to offer sacrifice to that God, whose pure eyes abhor iniquity; and especially in them.

There was in his Sermons no improper rhetoric, nor such perplexed divisions, as may be said to be like too much

light, that so dazzles the eyes, that the sight becomes less perfect but in them there was no want of useful matter, nor waste of words; and yet such clear distinctions as dispelled all confused notions, and made his hearers depart both wiser, and more confirmed in virtuous resolutions.

His memory was so matchless and firm, as 'twas only overcome by his bashfulness; for he alone, or to a friend, could repeat all the Odes of Horace, all Tully's Offices, and much of Juvenal and Persius, without book; and would say, the repetition of one of the Odes of Horace to himself, which he did often, was to him such music, as a lesson on the viol was to others, when they played it voluntarily to themselves or friends.' And though he was blest with a clearer judgment than other men, yet he was so distrustful of it, that he did usually over-consider of consequences, and would so delay and re-consider what to determine, that though none ever determined better, yet, when the bell tolled for him to appear and read his Divinity Lectures in Oxford, and all the Scholars attended to hear him, he had not then, or not till then, resolved and writ what he meant to determine; so that that appeared to be a truth, which his old dear friend Dr. Sheldon would often say of him, namely, That his judgment was so much superior to his fancy, that whatsoever this suggested, that disliked and controlled; still considering, and re-considering, till his time was so wasted, that he [was] forced to write, not, probably, what was best, but what he thought last.' And yet what he did then read, appeared to all hearers to be so useful, clear, and satisfactory, as none ever determined with greater applause. These tiring and perplexing thoughts begot in him some averseness to enter into the toil of considering and determining all casuistical points; because during that time, they neither gave rest to his body or mind. But though he would not suffer his mind to be always laden with these knotty points and distinctions; yet the study of old records, genealogies, and heraldry, were a recreation and so pleasing, that he would say they gave a pleasant rest to his mind. Of the last of which I have seen two remarkable volumes;

and the Reader needs neither to doubt their truth or exactness.

And this holy humble man had so conquered all repining and ambitious thoughts, and with them all other unruly passions, that, if the accidents of the day proved to his danger or damage, yet he both began and ended it with an even and undisturbed quietness; always praising God that He had not withdrawn food and raiment from him and his poor family; nor suffered him in the times of trial to violate his conscience for his safety, or to support himself or them in a more splendid or plentiful condition; and that he therefore resolved with David, 'That His praise should be always in his mouth.'

I have taken a content in giving my reader this character of his person, his temper, and some of the accidents of his life past; and more might be added of all; but I will with sorrow look forward to the sad days, in which so many good men, clergymen especially, were sufferers; namely about the year 1658, at which time Dr. Sanderson was in a very pitiful condition as to his estate; and in that time Mr. Robert Boyle-a gentleman of a very noble birth, and more eminent for his liberality, learning, and virtue, and of whom I would say much more, but that he still lives-having casually met with and read his Lectures de Juramento, to his great satisfaction, and being informed of Dr. Sanderson's great innocence and sincerity, and that he and his family were brought into a low condition by his not complying with the Parliament's injunctions, sent him by his dear friend Dr. Barlow-the now learned Bishop of Lincoln-50%. and with it a request and promise. The request was, that he would review the Lectures de Conscientia, which he had read when he was Doctor of the Chair in Oxford, and print them for the good of posterity :-and this Dr. Sanderson did in the year 1659.-And the promise was, that he would pay him that, or, if he desired it, a greater sum yearly, during his life, to enable him to pay an amanuensis, to ease him from the trouble of writing what he should conceive or dictate. For the more particular

account of which, I refer my Reader to a letter writ to me by the said Dr. Barlow, which I have annexed to the end of this relation.

Towards the beginning of the year 1660, when the many mixed sects, and their creators and merciless protectors, had led or driven each other into a whirlpool of confusion both in Church and State: when amazement and fear had seized most of them, by foreseeing, they must now not only vomit up the churches, and the King's land, but their accusing consciences did also give them an inward and fearful intelligence that the God of opposition, disobedience, and confusion, which they had so long and so diligently feared, was now ready to reward them with such wages as he always pays to witches for their obeying him. When these wretches, that had said to themselves' we shall see no sorrow,' were come to foresee an end of their cruel reign, by our King's return; and such sufferers as Dr. Sanderson-and with him many of the oppressed Clergy and others—could foresee the cloud of their afflictions would be dispersed by it; then the twenty-ninth of May following, the King was by our good God restored to us, and we to our known laws and liberties, and then a general joy and peace seemed to breathe through the three nations; the suffering and sequestered Clergy (who had, like the children of Israel, sat long lamenting their sad condition, and hanged their neglected harps on the willows that grow by the rivers of Babylon) were after many thoughtful days and restless nights now freed from their sequestration, restored to their revenues, and to a liberty to adore, praise, and pray to Almighty God publicly in such order as their consciences and oaths had formerly obliged them. And the Reader will easily believe, that Dr. Sanderson and his dejected family rejoiced to see this happy day, and be of

this number.

At this time of the conformable Clergy's deliverance, from the Presbyterian severities, the Doctor said to a friend, 'I look back on this strange and happy turn of the late times, with amazement and thankfulness; and

cannot but think the Presbyterians ought to read their own errors, by considering that by their own rules the Independents have punished and supplanted them as they did the conformable Clergy, who are now (so many as still live) restored to their lawful rights; and, as the prophet David hath taught me, so I say with a thankful heart, Verily, there is a God that judgeth the earth: and, a reward for the righteous.'

It ought to be considered-which I have often heard or read-that in the primitive times men of learning, prudence, and virtue were usually sought for, and solicited to accept of Episcopal government, and often refused it. For they conscientiously considered, that the office of a Bishop was not made up of ease and state, but of labour and care; that they were trusted to be God's almoners of the Church's revenue, and double their care for the Church's good and the poor; to live strictly themselves, and use all diligence to see that their family, officers, and Clergy became examples of innocence and piety to others; and that the account of that stewardship, must, at the last dreadful day, be made to the Searcher of all Hearts and for these reasons they were in the primitive times timorous to undertake it. It may not be said, that Dr. Sanderson was accomplished with these, and all the other requisites required in a Bishop, so as to be able to answer them exactly but it may be affirmed, as a good preparation, that he had at the age of seventy-three years-for he was so old at the King's Return-fewer faults to be pardoned by God or man, than are apparent in others in these days, in which, God knows, we fall so short of that visible sanctity and zeal to God's glory, which was apparent in the days of Primitive Christianity. This is mentioned by way of preparation to what I shall say more of Dr. Sanderson, as namely, that, at the King's return, Dr. Sheldon, the late prudent Archbishop of Canterbury, than whom none knew, valued, or loved Dr. Sanderson more or better,-was by his Majesty made a chief trustee to commend to him fit men to supply the then vacant Bishoprics. And Dr. Sheldon knew none

: