the service, and delivered an admirable sermon with great spirit and animation. On his return home, he found the soldiers waiting to beg his pardon, and desire his prayers to God in their behalf. The parliamentary committee soon after deprived this resolute pastor of his living; but on the restoration of Charles II. he was rewarded for his loyalty by the bishopric of Worcester, which he enjoyed till the revolution; when refusing to take the oath of allegiance to King William, he would have been turned out of his see, had not death intervened to spare him this indignity. His objections to the oath were conscientious, and not to be overcome. In a letter to a friend, he says, "If my heart do not deceive me, and God's grace do not fail me, I think I could suffer at a stake, rather than take this oath."

A letter from Archbishop Sancroft to this prelate, written in 1683, complains of a custom which was at that time, and for many years after, continued, of preaching the sermon in the body of the cathedral, while the prayers were read in the choir. The origin of the custom was, that as there nsed to be no sermon in the parish churches, the several parishioners might, after their own prayers, attend the sermon of some eminent preacher in the cathedral.

BERNARD GILPIN.

The great northern apostle, Bernard Gilpin, who refused a bishopric, did not confine his christian labours to the church of Houghton, of which he was minister, but at his own expense visited the then desolate churches of Northumberland, once every

year, to preach the gospel. Once when he was setting out on his annual visitation, Barnes, Bishop of Durham, summoned him to preach before him; but he excused himself, and went on his mission. On his return, he found himself suspended from all ecclesiastical employments for contempt. The bishop afterwards sent for him suddenly, and commanded him to preach: but he pleaded his suspension, which however the bishop immediately took off. Gilpin then went into the pulpit, and selected for his subject the important charge of a christian bishop. Having exposed the corruption of the clergy, he boldly addressed himself to his lordship, who was present. "Let not your lordship," said he, "say these crimes have been committed without your knowledge; for whatsoever you yourself do in person, or suffer through your connivance to be done by others, is wholly your own; therefore in the presence of God, angels, and men, I pronounce your fatherhood to be the author of all these evils; and I, and this whole congregation, will be a witness in the day of judgment, that these things have come to your ears." It was expected that the bishop would have resented this boldness; but on the contrary, he thanked Mr. Gilpin for his faithful reproof, and suffered him to go his annual visitations in future without molestation.

About this period, the Northumbrians retained so much of the custom of our Saxon ancestors, as to decide every dispute by the sword: they even went beyond them; and not content with a duel, each contending party used to muster what adherents he could, and commenced a kind of petty war, so that a private grudge would often occasion much bloodshed.

In one of Mr. Gilpin's annual visitations, there was a quarrel of this kind at Rothbury. During the first two or three days of his preaching, the contending parties observed some decorum, and never appeared at church together. At length, however, they met. One party had been early to church, and just as Mr. Gilpin began his sermon, the other entered. They did not stand long quiet, but mutually inflamed at the sight of each other, began to clash their weapons. Awed, however, by the sacredness of the place, the tumult in some degree ceased, and Mr. Gilpin proceeded with his sermon. In a short time, the combatants again brandished their weapons, and approached each other. Mr. Gilpin then descended from the pulpit, went between the combatants, and addressing their leaders, put an end to their quarrels for the time, although he could not effect an entire reconciliation. They promised, however, that until the sermon was over, they would not disturb the congregation. He then returned to the pulpit, and devoted the rest of his time in endeavouring to make the combatants ashamed of their conduct. His behaviour and discourse affected them so much, that at his further entreaty, they agreed to abstain from all acts of hostility, while he continued in the country.

On another occasion, Mr. Gilpin going into the church, observed a glove hanging up, which he was told was a challenge to any one that should take it down. He ordered the sexton to give it to him, but he refused. Mr. Gilpin then reached it himself, and put it in his breast. When the congregation was assembled, he went into the pulpit, and in the course of his sermon severely censured these inhuman challenges.

"I hear," said he, " that one among you has hung up a glove, even in this sacred place, threatening to fight any one who should take it down. See, I have done this," holding up the glove to the congregation, and again inveighing in strong terms against such unchristian practices.

BARROW.

The celebrated Dr. Barrow was not only remarkable for the excellence, but for the extraordinary length of his sermons. In preaching the Spital sermon before the Lord Mayor and the corporation, he spent three hours and a half. Being asked, after he came down from the pulpit, if he was not tired, he replied, "Yes, indeed, I begin to be weary in standing so long."

He was once requested by the Bishop of Rochester, then Dean of Westminster, to preach at the Abbey, and requested not to make a long sermon, for that the auditory loved short ones, and were accustomed to them. He replied, "My lord, I will show you my sermon," and immediately gave it to the bishop. The text was, "He that uttereth a slander, is a liar ;" and the sermon was divided into two parts, one treating on slander, and the other on lies. The dean desired him to preach the first part of it only; and to this be consented, though not without some reluctance. This half sermon took him an hour and a half in the delivery.

At another time, Dr. Barrow preached in the Abbey on a holiday. It was then customary for the servants of the church, upon all holidays, except

Sundays, betwixt the sermon and evening prayer, to show the tombs and monuments in the Abbey to such strangers or other persons as would purchase the privilege for twopence. Perceiving Dr. Barrow in the pulpit after the hour was past, and fearing to lose time in hearing, which they thought they could more profitably employ in receiving, the servants of the church became impatient, and most indecently caused the organ to be struck up against him; nor would they cease playing until the doctor was silenced, which was not until he despaired of being heard, or of exhausting the organ blower.

"In

It is scarcely necessary to observe, that the length of Dr. Barrow's sermons was their only fault. him," says that excellent critic, Dr. Blair, " one admires more the prodigious fecundity of his invention, and the uncommon strength of his conceptions, than the felicity of his execution, or his talent in composition. We see a genius far surpassing the common, peculiar indeed almost to himself; but that genius often shooting wild, and unchastised by any discipline or study of eloquence. On every subject he multiplies words with an overflowing copiousness; but it is always a torrent of strong ideas and significant expressions which he pours forth." Of the truth of the last remark, the following definition of wit in a sermon, against foolish talking and jesting, will furnish a pleasing specimen. "Wit," says he, " is a thing so versatile and multiform, appearing in so many shapes, so many postures, so many garbs, so variously apprehended by several eyes and judgments, that it seemeth no less hard to settle a clear and certain notion thereof, than to make a portrait of