could, without straying after worldly interest; and though the providence of God, infinitely wise and righteous, hath, for a great part of my life, excluded me from the habitual exercise of that sacred office to which I was called, yet I have the comfort of having endeavoured in some degree to serve, against its various adversaries, the cause of God, of religion, of that Church in which I was baptised, educated, and received into holy orders. And though the events of life have given me occasion to take a nearer view of the doctrines and worship of other Christian Churches, yet from thence I have been confirmed in my belief, that the Church of England, abuses notwithstanding, is the most agreeable to the institutions of Christ and his apostles. And being now in a point of time to which eternity is near, you will believe me, if I declare (and to the world I would declare it), that in this communion I resolve to die, and expect to be saved by the merits and mediation of Christ Jesus. And that all our labours may be accepted by his infinite mercy, be serviceable to his religion, and beneficial to our Church and country, is the prayer of, &c. CHARLES LESLIE. To my worthy friend Roger Kenyon. 57. Jeremy Taylor to his Brother-in-Law. Nov. 24, 1643. DEAR BROTHER,-Thy letter was most welcome to me, bringing the happy news of thy recovery. I hope I shall not need to bid thee be careful for the perfecting thy health, and to be fearful of a relapse. Though I am very much, yet thou thyself art more concerned in it; but this I will remind thee of, that thou be infinitely careful to perform to God those holy promises which I suppose thou didst make in thy sickness: and remember what thoughts thou hadst then, and bear them along upon thy spirit all thy life-time. For that which was true then, is so still, and the world is really as vain a thing as thou didst then suppose it. I durst not tell thy mother of thy danger (though I heard of it), till at the same time I told her of thy recovery. Poor woman, she was troubled and pleased at the same time. Thy most affectionate and dear brother, 58. A Letter to Mr. Kettlewell's widow, upon her husband's decease, by Dr. Hicks. April 17, 1695. GOOD MADAM,—It hath been a great trouble to me that my condition would not allow me to pay my respects, as otherwise I would have done, in visits to Mr. Kettlewell while he was sick, and in attending with my brethren upon him at his funeral, to see him laid in his grave in the church, where he and I so often served God together. None of his friends knew him longer and better than I did; and in the two last visits I made him, he affectionately took notice of the long, and firm, and uninterrupted friendship we had together. And as our long acquaintance together made me thoroughly acquainted with his learning and virtues, so none can be more sensible of the great loss the Church hath sustained in him, and especially the communion in which he died, and to which he was so great an ornament, as well as a defence. I pray God of his mercy to raise up to his Church more such priests in his stead, and to multiply his spirit of wisdom, piety, meekness, charity, zeal, and industry, upon all his brethren he hath left behind him; and that we may be all followers of his example, as he was of Christ's. As long as it shall please God that I survive him, I shall preserve a very honourable and affectionate remembrance of him, and take all occasions to speak of his eminent virtues. And though his own works will abundantly praise him, and transmit his memory to posterity, yet since I know as much, or, it may be, more of him than any other man, I should be glad, were I in a condition to do it, to write his life, with which I was so well acquainted; or to contribute materials to the writing of it, if any other person would undertake to compile it. I mention this, because it would be much to God's glory, the honour of our religion, and the benefit of the world, to have so exemplary a life written; and, if you please, you may tell my opinion to any of his dear friends whom it might be fit to consult in this matter. I do not condole your private loss, because it is involved in the public; nor need I say much to comfort you, because it cannot but be an unspeakable consolation to you to consider, that he that was lately your husband, is now one of the most glorious saints the Church of England ever sent to the heavenly mansions of the blessed spirits reserved for a glorious resurrection. You have now nothing to do, but to dry up the tears from your eyes, to pay your constant respects to his memory, by maintaining your character, as the widow of such a venerable man, in every respect, more especially by imitating his virtues, holding his principles of truth and righteousness, which he adorned by practice all his life long, even unto death. I doubt not but you will have the benefit of the prayers he made for you in his life; he commended you again and again to the protection of God: and that God, who is an husband to all truly faithful widows, may always have you in particular keeping, is the hearty prayer of, Your most faithful friend, and humble servant, 59. The Rev. W. Jones to his intimate friend Dr. Glasse, on the death of his Wife. MY DEAR FRIEND,—Though I am in a very low and sorrowful state, from the pressure of a troublesome memory upon a broken heart, I am not insensible to the expressions of your kind consolatory letter; for which I heartily thank you, and pray that the effect of it may remain with me. The prospect which has been before me for several weeks past has kept my mind (too weak and soft upon all tender occasions) under continual and, as I feared, insupportable agitation; till, after a painful struggle, no relief could be found but by bowing my head with silent submission to the will of God, which came to pass but a few days before the fatal stroke. I have found it pleasant in time past to do the work of God; to demonstrate his wisdom, and to defend his truth, to the hazard of my quiet and my reputation; but, O my dear friend, I never knew till now what it was to suffer the will of God; although my life has never been long free from great trials and troubles. Neither was I sensible of the evil of Adam's transgression, till it took effect upon the life of my blessed companion, of whom neither I nor the world was worthy. If I could judge of this case as an indifferent person, I should see great reason to give thanks and glory to God for his mercies. We had every preparatory comfort, and death at last came in such a form as to seem disarmed of his sting. A Christian clergyman of this neighbourhood, who is my good friend, administered the communion to her in her bedchamber while she was well enough to kneel by the side of him; and he declared to me afterwards, that he was charmed and edified by the sight; for that the peace of heaven was visible in her countenance. I saw the same; and I would have given my life if that look could have been taken and preserved—it would have been a sermon to the end of the world. On the last evening, she sat with me in the parlour where I am now writing, and I read the lessons of the day to her as usual, in the first of which there was this remarkable passage: "And the time drew nigh that Israel must die.' Of this I felt the effects, but made no remarks. On her last morning, we expected her below stairs; but, at eleven o'clock, as I was going to church to join with the congregation in praying for her, an alarming drowsiness had seized upon her, and she seemed as a person literally falling asleep, till, at the point of noon, it appeared that she was gone; but the article of her dying could not be distinguished; it was more like a translation. I have reason to remember, with great thankfulness, that her life was preserved a year longer than I expected; in consequence of which, I had the blessing of her attendance to help and comfort me under a tedious illness of the last summer, under which I should probably have sunk if she had been taken away sooner. It so pleased God that when she grew worse became better, and able to attend her with all the zeal and tenderness affection could inspire. But how different were our services! She, though with the weakness of a woman, and in her seventy-fifth year, had the fortitude of a man, I mean a Christian-and all her conversation tended to lessen the evils of life, while it |