and listened to him with atten. tion for they saw at once that there existed some grand points of difference between him and those ministers who had former. ly been placed over them.

The value of the living of Houghton was about 4007. per annum, a large sum in those days; the whole of which Mr. Gilpin resolved should be employed in works of charity, and in the exercise of hospitality. With this view he improved and enlarged the parsonage-house, till it became a suitable habitation for one of his hospitable turn. It was beautifully situated, and, in size, it more resembled the palace of a bishop than the dwelling of a rector.

He had scarcely been fixed at Houghton, when the bishop offered him a prebendal stall in the cathedral of Durham, which had become vacant, pressing him to accept it, on the ground that, as it was quite a sinecure, he could have no pretence for declining it. Gilpin, however, begged that the bishop would be. stow this preferment on some one who stood more in need of it than he did; as for himself, he had already received more from his lordship's bounty than he feared he could give a good account of.

As Mr. Gilpin had resigned the archdeaconry, by his conduct in which office it was that he had chiefly excited the enmity of the neighboring clergy, and as he now confined himself chiefly to the concerns of his extensive parish, it might have been hoped that they would have allowed him to proceed in his course without molestation. Their malice, however, still pursued him.

They could not be blind to the marked difference between his life and theirs. His indefatigable attention to his pastoral duties, his laboriousness in the work of the ministry, and his ever-wakeful solicitude for the spiritual in. terests of his parishioners, afforded a reproof, which could not be misunderstood, of their negli. gence, indifference, and sloth. Every engine, therefore, was set to work, in order to collect materials for a charge against him ; and though he behaved as cautiously as he thought consistent with his duty to the souls of his flock-more cautiously indeed. than his conscience, in after life, could approve-yet such was the unwearied industry and vigi. lance of his enemics, that a long list of charges was, in a short time, collected, and he was again formally accused before the bishop, by whom, however, he was again acquitted. The bishop, nevertheless, was so much displeased with his nephew, for what he deemed his imprudence and unwarrantable obstinacy, and was so apprehensive of dan. ger to himself, from continuing to countenance his rash proceedings, that he thought it right to withdraw from him those external marks of his favor which he had before enjoyed. He even blotted him out of his will. this Mr. Gilpin remarked, that, considering the great obligations he owed to the bishop, he was truly sorry to perceive that he had offended him. He would have given up any thing to satisfy him, except his conscience. As for the bishop's property, he was glad not to have the bur, then of it.

On

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Though Mr. Gilpin's enemies had thus failed a second time with the bishop, they resolved to persevere in their attempts against him. They therefore accused him before Bonner, the bishop of London. Bonner was a man suited to their purpose. violence formed a direct contrast to the moderation of bishop Tunstal. He commended their zeal, and assured them that the here. tic should not go unpunished. An account of this threat reached Mr. Gilpin in time for him to effect his escape, a course to which he was strongly urged by his friends; but he was deaf to all their importunities: he had long prepared his mind to suffer for the sake of the gospel; it would be denying the faith of Christ, to shrink from giving his testimony when called to it; his great ambition was to advance the interests of religion; and if, to this end, his death were ne cessary, he should rejoice to die. He then caused a long gar. ment to be provided for him, in which he might go decently to the stake, should it be the will of God that he should suffer. In a few days, persons arrived with authority to apprehend and convey him to London, to whom he willing surrendered himself.

In the course of his journey to town he broke his leg; and this accident necessarily prevented his proceeding for some time. One of the maxims which Mr. Gilpin was used frequently to repeat was, "that all events are intended by Providence for our good." His keepers took occasion now to taunt him with this remark, asking him, whether he thought his present misfortune was intended for his good. To

this he meekly replied, "that he had no doubt it was." And so indeed it proved; for, before his leg was in a condition to admit of his travelling, news arriv. ed of the death of queen Mary, and he was soon after set at liberty. Some have affected to doubt the truth of this relation, at least as far as relates to the ac cident which is said to have be fallen him. Thus much, hower. er, is undeniable; that the intelligence of the queen's death met him as he was on the way to London, and put an end to his confinement and persecution; and that he returned to Hough. ton, where he was met by crowds of people, loudly expressing their joy, and blessing God for his deliverance.

Mr. Gilpin now enjoyed that full liberty to pursue his benev olent plans for which he had long prayed. His uncle, the bishop, now suffered in his turn: he was ordered up to London, and, refusing to take the oath of supremacy, he was sent to the Tower. His confinement, however, was not of long duration. He was received by archbishop Parker into the palace at Lambeth, and there spent, in a very comfortable and tranquil manner the short residue of his long life.

The earl of Bedford was always much attaclied to Mr. Gilpin; and when many of the popish bishops were deprived of their sees, recommended him to fill one of the vacancies. He was accordingly nominated to the bishopric of Carlisle. He no sooner heard of the honor which it was intended to confer on him, than he wrote to the earl of Bedford, expressing his gratitude to his lordship and the queen; bat de

clining to accept their kindness, on the ground that he was whol. ly unequal to the station. The earl employed Dr. Sandys, the bishop of Worcester, to overcome Mr. Gilpin's scruples. But notwithstanding the arguments and urgent intreaties of Dr. Sandys, aided by a solemn appeal to Mr. Gilpin's conscience, Mr. Gilpin maintained his first determination; and the bishopric was at length given to Dr. Best.

In the following year the provostship of Queen's college, Oxford, was offered to Mr. Gilpin; but he likewise refused to accept this preferment. The benefice he already possessed gratified his utmost desire of worldly wealth, and afforded him a sufficiently extensive sphere for his benevolent labors.

Mr. Gilpin was carly aware that the grand impediments to the progress of the Reformation, which had been so happily be gun, were the prevailing ignorance and superstition. With these evils even the universities were deeply infected, so that the very channels through which knowledge might be expected to flow were choked up. The attention of the queen and her min. isters was drawn to the subject, and they took an active part in endeavoring to promote the in. terests of science. In this good work they were zealously aided by Mr. Gilpin. Although his hospitality, which was of the most generous and expansive kind, made a large demand on his income, and his charities exhausted a still larger portion of it, he formed a design for build. ing and endowing a grammar. school, which his exact econo.

my enabled him to complete. The school flourished greatly under his care: the masters were the ablest he could procure; and he himself exercised a constant inspection over it, quickening ap plication by suitable encourage ments, and distinguishing the scholars who were most diligent, by calling them his own, and instructing them frequently himself. Often, when he met a poor boy on the road, he would make trial of his capacity, and, if sat. isfied with it, would provide for his education. From school, he sent several to the universities; maintaining them there at his own expense, and continuing to watch over their conduct. He regularly corresponded with them, and required from them an account of their studies. In. deed, so anxious was he respect. ing them, knowing the tempta. tions to which their age and sit. uation exposed them, that he made occasional journeys to the universities, in order to inspect their proceedings. Nor was his care fruitless. Few of his scholars turned out ill, and many of them became great ornaments to the church, and exemplary in. stances of piety.

While Mr. Gilpin was em. ployed in founding his school, the popish party in the north, headed by the earls of Westmorland and Northumberland, broke out into open rebellion. They appeared in arms, display. ing in their banners a chalice, and the five wounds of Christ, and brandishing a cross before them. They took Durham, and laid waste the adjoining country, ravaging as far as Houghton. But the approach of the earl of Sussex with a numerons army so

terrified the insurgents, that they mutinied and dispersed. Many were taken, and a commission was issued to try them. On this occasion, the humane interposition of Mr. Gilpin proved very beneficial. He represent ed to the judge, that the people were well affected, but, being extremely ignorant, had been misled by designing men, who made them believe that they were taking up arms for the Queen. This representation served greatly to abate the severity which the judge seemed at first disposed to exercise towards 'the insurgents.

During the period of seventeen years, viz.from 1559 to1576, that Dr. Pilkington was bishop of Durham, Mr. Gilpin enjoyed a state of comparative tranquillity and comfort. The bishop was a learned and pious man, remarkable for his moderation, and anxious, above all things else, to promote the interests of religion in his diocese. Between him and Mr. Gilpin there soon arose a very intimate friendship. They were intent on pursuing the same objects, and often met, sometimes at the bishop's palace, and sometimes at Houghton, to consider and determine their pious plans. Dr. Pilkington was succeeded in the bishopric by Dr. Barnes, with whom Mr. Gilpin did not live on the same footing of friendly intercourse. The bishop appointed his broth. er, who was a man of bad character, licentious, violent, and tyrannical, to be chancellor of the diocese. Between him and Mr. Gilpin there was a perpetual opposition, the latter endeavoring to redress the injuries done by the venality and other irregular

ities of the former; and though he behaved to him always with mildness, yet proving a constant check on his unjust and oppressive conduct.

The bishop who was a wellmeaning, but weak and irreso lute man, and very unwilling to believe any thing which was told him to the disadvantage of his brother, seems not to have re. garded Mr. Gilpin with much cordiality. This was very visi ble on one occasion. йle received a message from the bish. op, appointing him to preach a visitation sermon on the following Sunday. He was then about to set off to fulfil some itinerat. ing engagements which he had made in Readsdale and Tindale. He informed the bishop of the circumstance, and begged that he would excuse him from com. plying with his wish. The bishop returned no answer; and Gilpin, concluding that he was satisfied, proceeded on his jour ney. When he came home, he found, to his surprise, that he had been suspended. A few days afterwards, be received an order to meet the bishop. He went, and found many of the clergy assembled. The bishop ordered him to preach that day before them. Mr. Gilpin earnestly requested to be excused: he had come wholly unprepared to preach. But the bishop would take no excuse, and commanded him, on his canonical obedience, to go into the pulpit. He there. fore went up, and though he ob served several taking notes, he proceeded in his sermon without hesitation. Towards the close of it, he addressed the bishop personally on the flagrant abus es in his diocese, telling him that

God required at his hands the reformation of them. He could no longer allege that he was not apprized of the enormities every where committed. Behold, I bring these things to your knowledge this day." "Say not then," he added, "that these crimes have been committed by the fault of others, without your knowledge; for whatever you suffer through your connivance to be done by others, is your own. Therefore, in the presence of God, his angels, and men, I pronounce you to be the author of all these evils: yea, and in that strict day of general account, I will be a witness to testify against you, that all these things have come to your knowledge by my means and all these men who hear me this day will bear witness of it also."

Mr. Gilpin's boldness alarmed his friends :-If the bishop had been so forward in punishing him before without any provocation, he must now be exasperated beyond measure. Mr. Gilpin said, that, if good were done, he was indifferent to personal consequences. To the surprise of every one, however, the bishop shewed no marks of resentment; and after dinner, when Mr. Gilpin went up to take leave, the bishop told him he meant to accompany him to Houghton, which he according ly did. On entering a parlour, he eagerly seized Mr. Gilpin's hand, and said to him, "Father Gilpin, you are fitter to be the bishop of Durham than I am to be the rector of your parish. I ask your forgiveness, father, for past injuries. You have enemies; but, while I am bishop

of Durham, be secure; none of them shall trouble you."

Mr. Gilpin was much employed during the last years of his life, in fixing his school on a solid foundation. He made the statutes as unexceptionable as he could. Though he had applied a considerable sum of money to its support, the endowment appeared insufficient. He prevailed therefore on some others to contribute to this object, until the revenues became answerable to his wish. to his wish. He likewise procured a charter for it from the queen.

In the latter part of Mr. Gilpin's life, his health was much impaired. The fatigues he had undergone had broken his constitution. His memory began to decay, and his sight and hearing also failed. In this situation he met with a very severe accident. An ox ran at him and threw him down with such violence, that it was thought he would have died in consequence. He, however, got abroad again; though he never afterwards recovered his former strength, and continued to be lame for the rest of his life. But he had a mind not to be depressed by such circumstances. He received them rather with thankfulness than repining; he considered them as kindly monitions sent by his heavenly Father to remind him of his approaching end, and to prepare him for it. But sick. ness was not the only trial which beset his declining years. As age and infirmity increased, the malicious efforts of his enemies, now less apprehensive of vigorous opposition, increased also. They availed themselves of the most frivolous pretences