ing the duty of the day, returned to Bishop's Court to dinner; and this he did after he was eighty years of age, on horseback. This was a constant obligation on the clergy and the people to be mindful of their duty; and four times in every year he made a general visitation, inquiring into the behaviour and conduct of all the parishioners, and exhorting them to the practice of religion and virtue.—And at his annual convocation, he delivered his charges with all the grace and dignity of an apostle. He was so fond of his flock, and so attached to his diocese, that no temptation could seduce him from their service, no offer could remove him. We have already mentioned, that Queen Anne would have given him an English bishopric: King George the First made him the same offer; and in 1735, Queen Caroline was very desirous of keeping him in England; but though he was much bound to her Majesty's goodness, he would not be persuaded. Indeed, the whole of his conduct, and every action of his life, shewed him to be no otherwise a man of this world, than as a minister to do good to his fellow creatures, while living in it 3 and the people of the island were so thoroughly persuaded of his receiving a larger proportion of God's blessing, that they seldom began harvest till he did; and if he passed along by the field, they would leave their work to ask his blessing, assured, that that day would be prosperous. Nor was this opinion confined to the obscure corner where he resided; in Warrington, nay, in London, there were those living, a few years ago, who remembered crowds of people flocking round him with the cry of "Bless me too, my lord!" The charities which he bestowed himself, and the contributions which he obtained of others, are proofs of his munificence, and the benevolence of his disposition. We have not room to enumerate them, but they are such as cannot fail to excite in us the most lively affection for so much real piety and goodness, seldom found in the like degree to possess a human character. Thus, by living a sober, righteous, and godly life, this venerable and apostolic bishop attained to the ninety-third year of his age, and the fifty-eighth of his consecration; and gently expired on the 7th of March, 1755. The immediate cause of his death was a cold caught by walking in his garden in a severe and damp day, after evening prayers; dying as he lived, praising God in psalms, and detached sentences of the "Te Deum." The tenants about his demesnes were the persons appointed to bear the bishop to his grave; and each had a mourning coat given for the occasion. But from the palace to the church, which was a distance of two miles, he was attended by all the inhabitants of the island as mourners, except those whom necessity, age, or sickness, confined at home; and at every resting-place, there was a contest contest among the crowd to bear him on their shoulders; and happy were they who could pay this last sad office to the deceased bishop, their beloved friend, and sincere benefactor. His funeral sermon was preached by the reverend Mr. Moire, of Douglas. Lamentation filled the church; it stifled the utterance of the preacher, and wrung the hearts of the congregation. The bishop was interred at the east end of Kirk-Michael church yard, near the chancel. Over his grave is placed a square marble monument, surrounded with iron rails, through which may be read the following modest inscription: SLEEPING IN JESUS, HERE LIETH THE BODY OF Aged 93, and in the Fifty-eighth year of his Consecration. And so it will! When turning to the stranger or their children, the grateful Manksmen will relate a tale of the wondrous goodness of their dear, their much-beloved, much-lamented bishop. Telling them, whose hunger he had satisfied, to whose thirst he had given drink; what stranger he had relieved; whose nakedness he had clothed; whose sickness he had administered to; and what prisoners he had visited. The widow, and her lisping orphans, declared the praises of their pious benefactor. And perhaps some faithful minister of the gospel will conclude the story by saying, that he was a bishop "blameless as the steward of God; not self-willed, not soon angry, not given to wine, no striker, not given to filthy lucre; but a lover of hospitality, a lover of good men, sober, just, holy, temperate; holding fast the faithful word as he had been taught, and that he was able, by sound doctrine, both to exhort and convince the gainsayers." ADDITION TO THE CATALOGUE OF BISHOPS TO THE YEAR 1608; Being a Character and History of the Bishops during the Reigns of Queen ELIZABETH, and King JAMES; and an additional Supply to Dr. GODWIN'S Catalogue. By Sir JOHN HARRINGTON, Knight, Written for the private Use of Prince Henry. I NUMBER X.-CHICHESTER.. (Continued from page 329.) FINDE in former ages many unlearned and unfit men, by favour recommended to bishopricks, but of a man recommended by the king, and refused by the clergy, onely for his `want want of learning, I think there is but one example, and that was one Robert Paslew, in the time of Henry III. which Prince is no lesse to be commended for admitting the refusall, than they for refusing; but yet in speaking of learned Bishops, this church may say their last have been their best. Doctor Watson, your Highnesse can remember his Majestie's almoner, he was a very good preacher, preferred by the Queen, first to the deanry of Bristoll, where he was well beloved; and after to Chichester, where he was more honoured if not more beloved: for the course of his life, and cause of his death, I might in some sort compare him to Bishop Vaughan, late of London; he grew somewhat corpulent, and having been sick, and but newly recovered, adventured to travel to wait in his place, and so by recidivation he dyed. DOCTOR ANDREWS. His Majesty having a great desire to prefer Doctor Andrews, then Dean of Westminster, made speciall choyce of him to succeed him as well in the bishoprick as the almonership, and I suppose if Henry the 3d, his chaplain, had been so good a scholler, he had not been refused for his learning. This Bishop your Highnessse knoweth so well, and have heard him so oft, as it may be you think it needless to hear more of him. But I will be bold to say your Highnesse doth but half know him, for the vertues that are not seen in him, are more and greater then those that are seen; I will therefore play the blab so far, that your Highnesse may know him better. He was born in London, and trained up in the school of that famous Mulcaster, and for the speciall towardness was found in him in very young yeeres, he was not onely favoured, but had liberall exhibition given him by a great councellour of those times, as I shall note hereafter. The course of his study was not as most men's are in these times, to get a little superficiall sight in divinity, by reading two or three of the new writers, and straight take orders, and up into the pulpit. Of which kind of men a reverent Bishop, yet living, said as properly as pleasantly, when one told of a young man that preached twice every Lord's day, beside some exercising in the week dayes, it may be (saith he) he doth talk so often, but I doubt he doth not preach. And to the like effect the Queen said to the same Bishop, when she had on the Fryday heard one of those talking preachers much commended to her by some body, and the Sunday after heard a well laboured sermon that smelt of the candle, I pray (said she) let me have your bosom sermons, rather then your lip sermons; for when the preacher takes pains, the auditor takes profit. But to come to Doctor Andrews, that gathered before he did spend, reading both new writers and old writers, not as tasting but as disgesting them, and finding, according to our Vol. III. Churchm. Mag. Jan. 1803, Sup. 3 D Saviour's Saviour's saying, α maxαιos xpnsolepos, the old to be more prontable, at last his sufficiency could be no longer concealed. But as an industrious marchant that secretly and diligently follows his trade with small showe, till his wealth being grown so great, it can be no longer hidden, is then called on for subsidies and loans, and publique services; so did this man's excellencies suddenly break forth. His patron, that studied projects of policy, as much as precepts of piety, hearing of his fame, and meaning to make use thereof, sent for him (as I have credibly heard) and dealt earnestly with him, to hold up a side that was even then falling, and to maintain certain state points of puritanisme. But he had too much of the vapos in him to be scar'd with a Councellour's frown, or blown aside with his breath, answered him plainly, they were not onely against his learning, but his conscience. The Councellour seeing this man would be no Fryer Pinhie (to be taught in a closet what he should say at Pauls), dismist him with some disdain for the time; but afterwards did the more reverence his integrity and honesty, and became no hinderer to his ensuing preferments. Of these one was prebend in Pauls, belonging to him, they call the confessior or confessioner, a place notoriously abused in time of popery by their tyranny and superstition; but now of late by a contrary extream, too much forgotten and neglected. While he held this place, his manner was, especially in Lent time, to walk duly at certain hours, in one of the iles of the church, that if any came to him for spirituall advice and comfort, as some did, though not many, he might impart it to them. This custom being agreeable to Scripture, and Fathers, expressed and required in a sort in the communion book, not repugning the 39 articles, and no lesse approved by Calvin in his institutions, yet was quarrelled with by divers (upon occasion of some sermons of his) as a point of popery. The like scandall was taken of some, though not given by him, for his reverent speaking of the highest mystery of our faith and heavenly food, the Lord's Supper, which some are so stiffe in their knees, or rather in their hearts, that they hold it idolatry to receive that kneeling. But whatsoever such barked at, he ever kept one tenor of life and doctrine exemplar and unreproveable. Two speciall things I have. observed in his preaching that I may not omit to speak of. One to raise a joynt reverence to God and the Prince, to spirituall and civil magistrate, by, uniting and not severing them. The other to lead to an amendment of life, and to good works, the fruits of true repentance. Of the first kind, he made a sermon before the Queen long since, which was most famous of this text; Thou leddest thy people like sheep by the hands of Moses and Aaron; which sermon, (though (though courteous ears are commonly so open, as it goes in at one of ear and out at the other) yet it left an aculeus behind in many all sorts. And Henry Noel, one of the greatest gallants of those times, sware as he was a gentleman, he never heard man speak with such a spirit. And the like to this was his sermon before the king, of two silver trumpets to be made of one peece. Of the second kind I may say all his sermons are, but I will mention but his last, that I heard the fifth of the last November, which sermon I could wish ever to read upon that day. When the Lord turned the captivity of Sion, &c. And I never saw his Majesty more sweetly affected with any sermon then with that. But to conclude, I perswade my self, that whensoever it shall please God to give the King means, with consent of his confederate Princes, to make that great peace which his blessed word Beati Pacifici seemeth to promise, I mean the ending of this great schisme in the church of God, procured as much by ambition as by superstition; this reverent Prelate will be found one of the ablest, not of England onely, but of Europe, to set the course for composing the controversies, which I speak not to add reputation to his sufficiency by my judgement; but rather to win credit to my judgement by his sufficiency. And whereas I know some that have known him so long as I have, yet have heard and believe no lesse of his learning than I speak, find fault that he is not so apt to deliver his resolution upon every question moved as they could wish, who, if they be not quickly resolved of that they aske, will quickly resolve not to care for it. I say this cunctation is the mean between precipitation and procrastination, and is speciall commended by the Apostle St. James, as I have heard him alledge it, Sit omnis homo, tardus ad loquendum, tardus ad iram. ROCHESTER.-DOCTOR BARLOW. HIS bishoprick having been noted in Henry the Third, his poorest of England, suppose, the less been impoverished in the spoyling times; the grand spoylers being of the minde of some taylors, that when their allowance of stuffe was most scant, they would make the garment the larger. This city in these last 100 yeeres, hath had 14 bishops, of which one was a cardinall, two were arch-bishops, and I take it but one hath dyed bishop, and that was the last before this, whose name was young, but lived to be very old, and desired not to remove. His successour, Dr. Barlow, is one of the youngest in, age, but one of the ripest in learning of all his predecessors, since Bishop Fisher, that had ill luck with his learning, 3 D 2 to |