seems to demonstrate the same in his two large and remarkable Prefaces before his two volumes of Sermons; and he seems also, with much sorrow, to say the same again in his last Will, made when he apprehended himself to be very near his death. And these Covenanters ought to take notice of it, and to remember, that, by the late wicked war begun by them, Dr. Sanderson was ejected out of the Professor's Chair in Oxford; and that if he had continued in it,—for he lived fourteen years after,—both the learned of this, and other nations, had been made happy by many remarkable Cases of Conscience, so rationally stated, and so briefly, so clearly, and so convincingly determined, that posterity might have joyed and boasted, that Dr. Sanderson was born in this nation, for the ease and benefit of all the learned that shall be born after him but this benefit is so like time past, that they are both irrecoverably lost.

I should now return to Boothby Pannell, where we left Dr. Hammond and Dr. Sanderson together; but neither can be found there for the first was in his journey to London, and the second seized upon the day after his friend's departure, and carried prisoner to Lincoln, then a garrison of the Parliament's. For the pretended reason of which commitment, I shall give this following

account.

There was one Mr. Clarke, the Minister of Alington, a town not many miles from Boothby Pannell, who was an active man for the Parliament and Covenant; one that, when Belvoir Castle

then a garrison for the Parliament-was taken by a party of the King's soldiers, was taken in it, and made a prisoner of war in Newark, then a garrison of the King's; a man so active and useful for his party, that they became so much concerned for his enlargement, that the Committee of Lincoln sent a troop of horse to seize and bring Dr. Sanderson a prisoner to that garrison: and they did so. And there he had the happiness to meet with many, that knew him so well as to treat him kindly; but told him, "He must continue their prisoner, till he should purchase his own enlargement by procuring an exchange for Mr. Clarke, then prisoner in the King's garrison of Newark." There were many reasons given by the Doctor of the injustice of his imprisonment, and the inequality of the exchange: but all were ineffectual;

for done it must be, or he continue a prisoner. And in time done it was, upon the following conditions.

First, that Dr. Sanderson and Mr. Clarke being exchanged, should live undisturbed at their own Parishes; and if either were injured by the soldiers of the contrary party, the other, having notice of it, should procure him a redress, by having satisfaction made for his loss, or for any other injury; or if not, he to be used in the same kind by the other party. Nevertheless, Dr. Sanderson could neither live safe nor quietly, being several times plundered, and once wounded in three places: but he, apprehend. ing the remedy might turn to a more intolerable burden by impatience or complaining, forbore both; and possessed his soul in a contented quietness, without the least repining. But though he could not enjoy the safety he expected by this exchange, yet, by His providence that can bring good out of evil, it turned so much to his advantage, that whereas as his living had been sequestered from the year 1644, and continued to be so till this time of his imprisonment, he, by the Articles of War in this exchange for Mr. Clarke, procured his sequestration to be recalled, and by that means enjoyed a poor, but contented subsistence for himself, wife, and children, till the happy restoration of our King and Church.

In this time of his poor, but contented privacy of life, his casuistical learning, peaceful moderation, and sincerity, became so re markable, that there were many that applied themselves to him for resolution in cases of conscience; some known to him, many not; some requiring satisfaction by conference, others by letters; so many, that his life became almost as restless as their minds ; yet he denied no man: and if it be a truth which holy Mr. Herbert says, "That all worldly joys seem less, when compared with shewing mercy or doing kindnesses;" then doubtless Dr. Sanderson might have boasted for relieving so many restless and wounded consciences; which, as Solomon says, "are a burden that none can bear, though their fortitude may sustain their other infirmities ;" and if words cannot express the joy of a conscience relieved from such restless agonies; then Dr. Sanderson might rejoice that so many were by him so clearly and conscientiously satisfied, for he denied none, and would often praise God for that

ability, and as often for the occasion, and that God had inclined his heart to do it to the meanest of any of those poor, but precious souls, for which his Saviour vouchsafed to be crucified.

Some of these very many cases that were resolved by letters, have been preserved and printed for the benefit of posterity; as namely,

1. Of the Sabbath.

2. Marrying with a Recusant.

3. Of unlawful love.

4. Of a military life.

5. Of Scandal.

6. Of a bond taken in the King's name.
7. Of the Engagement.

8. Of a rash vow.

But many more remain in private hands, of which one is of Simony; and I wish the world might see it, that it might undeceive some Patrons, who think they have discharged that great and dangerous trust, both to God and man, if they take no money for a living, though it may be parted with for other ends less justifi

able.

And in this time of his retirement, when the common people were amazed and grown giddy by the many falsehoods, and misapplications of truths frequently vented in sermons; when they wrested the Scripture by challenging God to be of their party, and called upon him in their prayers to patronize their sacrilege and zealous frenzies; in this time he did so compassionate the generality of this misled nation, that though the times threatened danger, yet, he then hazarded his safety by writing the large and bold Preface now extant before his last twenty Sermons ;-first printed in the year 1655;-in which there was such strength of reason, with so powerful and clear convincing applications made to the Non-conformists, as being read by one of those dissenting brethren, who was possessed with such a spirit of contradiction, as being neither able to defend his error, nor yield to truth manifest, his conscience having slept long and quietly in a good sequestered living,—was yet at the reading of it so awakened, that

after a conflict with the reason he had met, and the damage he was to sustain if he consented to it,—and being still unwilling to be so convinced, as to lose by being over-reasoned,—he went in haste to the bookseller of whom it was bought, threatened him, and told him in anger, "he had sold a book in which there was false Divinity; and that the Preface had upbraided the Parliament, and many godly Ministers of that party, for unjust dealing.” To which his reply was, 'twas Tim. Garthwaite,-"That 'twas not his trade to judge of true or false Divinity, but to print and sell books and yet if he, or any friend of his, would write an answer to it, and own it by setting his name to it, he would print the Answer, and promote the selling of it."

About the time of his printing this excellent Preface, I met hm accidentally in London, in sad-coloured clothes, and, God knows, far from being costly. The place of our meeting was near to Little Britain, where he had been to buy a book, which he then had in his hand. We had no inclination to part presently, and therefore turned to stand in a corner under a penthouse, for it began to rain, and immediately the wind rose, and the rain increased so much, that both became so inconvenient, as to force us into a cleanly house, where we had bread, cheese, ale, and a fire for our money. This rain and wind were so obliging to me, as to force our stay there for at least an hour, to my great content and advantage; for in that time he made to me many useful observations, with much clearness and conscientious freedom. I shall relate a part of them, in hope they may also turn to the advantage of my Reader. He seemed to lament, that the Parliament had taken upon them to abolish our Liturgy, to the scandal of so many devout and learned men, and the disgrace of those many martyrs, who had sealed the truth and use of it with their blood: and that no Minister was now thought godly that did not decry it, and at least pretend to make better prayers ex tempore; and that they, and only they, that could do so, prayed by the Spirit, and were godly; though in their sermons they disputed, and evidently contradicted each other in their prayers. And as he did dislike this, so he did most highly commend the Common Prayer of the Church, saying, "the Collects were the most passionate, proper, and most elegant expressions that any language ever afforded; and that

there was in them such piety, and so interwoven with instructions, that they taught us to know the power, the wisdom, the majesty, and mercy of God, and much of our duty both to him and our neighbour; and that a congregation, behaving themselves reverently, and putting up to God these joint and known desires for pardon of sins, and praises for mercies received, could not but be more pleasing to God, than those raw, unpremeditated expressions, to which many of the hearers could not say, Amen.”

And he then commended to me the frequent use of the Psalter, or Psalms of David; speaking to this purpose: "That they were the treasury of Christian comfort, fitted for all persons and necessities; able to raise the soul from dejection by the frequent mention of God's mercies to repentant sinners; to stir up holy desires: to increase joy; to moderate sorrow; to nourish hope, and teach us patience, by waiting God's leisure; to beget a trust in the mercy, power, and providence of our Creator; and to cause a resignation of ourselves to his will; and then, and not till then, to believe ourselves happy." This, he said, the Liturgy and Psalms taught us; and that by the frequent use of the last, they would not only prove to be our soul's comfort, but would become so habitual, as to transform them into the Image of his soul that composed them. After this manner he expressed himself concerning the Liturgy and Psalms; and seemed to lament that this, which was the devotion of the more primitive times, should in common pulpits be turned into needless debates about Freewill, Election, and Reprobation, of which, and many like questions, we may be safely ignorant, because Almighty God intends not to lead us to Heaven by hard questions, but by meekness and charity, and a frequent practice of devotion.

And be seemed to lament very much, that, by the means of irregular and indiscreet preaching, the generality of the nation were possessed with such dangerous mistakes, as to think, "they might be religious first, and then just and merciful; that they might sell their consciences, and yet have something left that was worth keeping; that they might be sure they were elected, though their lives were visibly scandalous; that to be cunning was to be wise; that to be rich was to be happy, though their wealth was got without justice or mercy; that to be busy in things they un