themselves and equal content to him, for some years; and as their charge increased (she had yearly a child) so did his love and bounty.

It hath been observed by wise and considering men, that wealth hath seldom been the portion, and never the mark to discover good people; but that Almighty God, who disposeth all things wisely, hath of his abundant goodness denied it (he only knows why) to many, whose minds he hath enriched with the greater blessings of knowledge and virtue, as the fairer testimonies of his love to mankind; and this was the present condition of this man of so excellent erudition and endowments, whose necessary and daily expenses were hardly reconcileable with his uncertain and narrow estate; which I mention, for that at this time there was a most generous offer made him for the moderating of his worldly cares, the declaration of which shall be the next employment of my pen.

God hath been so good to his church, as to afford it in every age some such men to serve at his altar as have been piously ambitious of doing good to mankind; a disposition that is so like to God himself, that it owes itself only to him, who takes a pleasure to behold it in his creatures. These times (anno 1648) he did bless with many such, some of which live to be patterns of apostolical charity and of more than human patience.

I have said this, because I have occasion to mention one of them in my following discourse; namely, Dr. Morton, the most laborious and learned Bishop of Durham; one that God hath blessed with perfect intellectuals and a cheerful heart at the age of ninety-four years (and is yet living); one that, in his days of plenty, had so large a heart as to use his large revenue to the encouragement of learning and virtue, and is now (be it spoken with sorrow) reduced to a narrow state, which he embraces without repining, and still shows the beauty of his mind by so liberal a hand, as if this were an age in which to-morrow were to care for itself. I have taken a pleasure in giving the reader a short but true character of this good man, my friend, from whom I received this following relation. He sent to Mr. Donne, and entreated to borrow an hour of his time for a conference the next day. After their meeting, there was not many minutes passed before he spake to Mr. Donne to this purpose. "Mr. Donne, the occasion of sending for you is to propose to you, what I have often revolved in my own thought since I last saw you, which nevertheless I will not declare but upon this condition, that you shall not return me a present answer, but forbear three days, and bestow some part of that time in fasting and prayer, and after a serious consideration of what I shall propose, then return

to me with your answer. Deny me not, Mr. Donne, for it is the effect of a true love, which I would gladly pay as a debt due for yours to

me."

This request being granted, the Doctor expressed himself thus: "Mr. Donne, I know your education and abilities; I know your expectation of a state-employment, and I know your fitness for it, and I know too the many delays and contingencies that attend court-promises; and let me tell you, that my love, begot by our long friendship and your merits, hath prompted mê to such an inquisition after your present temporal estate, as makes me no stranger to your necessities, which I know to be such as your generous spirit could not bear, if it were not supported with a pious patience. You know I have formerly persuaded you to wave your court-hopes and enter into holy orders; which I now again persuade you to embrace, with this reason added to my former request. The king hath yesterday made me Dean of Gloucester, and I am also possessed of a benefice, the profits of which are equal to those of my Deanery. I will think my Deanery enough for my maintenance (who am and resolve to die a single man), and will quit my benefice, and estate you in it (which the patron is willing I shall do), if God shall incline your heart to embrace this motion. Remember, Mr. Donne, no

man's education or parts make him too good for this employment, which is to be an ambassador for the God of glory; that God, who, by a vile death, opened the gates of life to mankind. Make me no present answer, but remember your promise, and return to me the third day with your resolution."

At the hearing of this, Mr. Donne's faint breath and perplexed countenance gave a visible testimony of an inward conflict; but he performed his promise, and departed without returning an answer till the third day, and then his answer was to this effect:

"My most worthy and most dear friend, since I saw you I have been faithful to my promise, and have also meditated much of your great kindness, which hath been such as would exceed even my gratitude, but that it cannot do, and more I cannot return you; and I do that with a heart full of humility and thanks, though I may not accept of your offer. But, Sir, my refusal is not for that I think myself too good for that calling, for which kings, if they think so, are not good enough; nor for that my education and learning, though not eminent, may not, being assisted with God's grace and humility, render me in some measure fit for it; but I dare make so dear a friend as you are, my confessor; some irregularities of my life have been so visible to some men,

that though I have, I thank God, made my peace with him by penitential resolutions against them, and by the assistance of his grace banished them my affections; yet this, which God knows to be so, is not so visible to man, as to free me from their censures, and, it may be, that sacred calling from a dishonor. And besides, whereas it is determined by the best of casuists, that God's glory should be the first end, and a maintenance the second motive to embrace that calling, and though each man may propose to himself both together, yet the first may not be put last without a violation of conscience, which he that searches the heart will judge. And truly my present condition is such, that if I ask my own conscience whether it be reconcileable to that rule, it is at this time so perplexed about it, that I can neither give myself nor you an answer. You know, Sir, who says, 'Happy is that man whose conscience doth not accuse him for that thing which he does.' To these I might add other reasons that dissuade me; but I crave your favor that I may forbear to express them, and thankfully decline your offer." This was his present resolution; but the heart of man is not in his own keeping, and he was destined to this sacred service by a higher hand; a hand so powerful, as at last forced him to a compliance; of which I shall give the reader an account before I shall give a rest to my pen.