parties, but the little faithful flock of true believers in Mr. Clareton's church came there to be fed with the only true bread which cometh down from heaven: that bread, which He never failed to divide and portion among them. He was, in all but their holy faith, unlike his brother Gabriel: there was a calm sweetness, almost angelic in the younger brother, and a temper that was never known to be ruffled; and his preaching, though in a different style, was quite as effective as Mr. Clareton's. But he had less in common with his hearers, was more raised above them by the holy consistency of his walk and conversation, and, therefore, had less of their sympathy. And though he entered as fully into their feelings, they could not enter as warmly into his. There was more of the natural character of Peter in the elder brother; more of that of the beloved disciple in the younger. Even if Mr. Clareton had not been the father of Persis, and the being whom she loved best in the whole world; had he only stood in the same relation to her as her uncle, still her warmest affections would have been given to Mr. Clareton, perhaps, because on so many points she and her uncle were alike. All who loved Mr. Clareton, while they became, in a manner, blinded themselves to his infirmities, were so strongly and devotedly attached to him, that they could not bear to think that others should see anything to censure about him.

The old sergeant was one of those who felt the strongest attachment to him. No one would have ventured to speak a word against Mr. Clareton in his daughter's presence; but Adam Brooke often heard invidious and unkind remarks made on his infirmities of temper. Such, indeed, was his transparency of character, that every one was well aware of them; but if ever the honest sergeant was excited to an angry warmth of indignation, it was

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when a backbiting tongue was busy with the weak points of his beloved vicar; and to use the words of the wise man, as a north wind driveth away rain, so did his frowning countenance that backbiting tongue. "What are you looking for in this state of human infirmity?" he said, to a high professor, who was a great scandal-monger: "do you expect perfection in a man of like passions with ourselves? You may find such wonders in the lying legends of idolatrous Rome, but not in the Word of truth." There you will find that Peter, though an inspired Apostle, 'was to be blamed,' and that Paul and Barnabas were both betrayed into a heat of angry contention, which ended even in the parting asunder, for a time, of two of the best and greatest men that ever lived. If you want to find perfection, look more to Jesus, than, I fear, you are accustomed to do; but, remember, there were those, who attempted to find blemishes even in his perfect character and spotless life; and dared to raise their slanderous tongues against Him. We should all do well, my friend, if we were to seek out that which is good and lovely in the character of another man, instead of letting our tongues run on in slanders against him. I can answer for it, that the vicar is more deeply shocked and more heartily grieved about his own short-comings, than you or any one else can possibly be. All men in this fallen world have some sin or other to fight against in their own corrupt nature. Some men's are secret, and they are able to hide them from prying eyes; but other men's, like those of Mr. Clareton, cannot be hid. And what he would say to you is, take warning by them, and thank God if you are not tried in the same manner. And what our divine Redeemer has said to you, and me, my friend, we should be careful to observe: Judge not, that ye be not judged.' And again: First cast out the beam out of thine own

eye, then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye.' Yes, and remember that, in this instance, thy brother is a 'master in Israel."

CHAPTER V.

HOPES AND FEARS.

DURING the two years that succeeded the return of Charles the Second, the hopes and the fears of those good men who loved peace, alternately fluctuated. They earnestly desired to see an accommodation between the two great sections of the church in England, in which both might yield something, and so both might be united under one establishment. The king had bound himself by explicit and solemn promises to the Presbyterian party, to whose influence he was so greatly indebted for his return, that their claims should be respected; and that he would use his best exertions to adjust all differences between them and the Episcopalians. Bishopricks

were offered to three of the leading men among the Presbyterians, to Calamy, Baxter, and Reynolds. Reynolds alone accepted the offer, and was consecrated Bishop of Norwich. Calamy and Baxter, not from scruples of conscience with regard to their own subscription, but from a conscientious fear of outraging the feelings of their own party, refused the offered distinction. It has been thought, and perhaps truly, that they threw away an opportunity of effecting great good; for that with the talent, and zeal, and extraordinary influence of two such men as Calamy and Baxter in the House of Lords, many of those measures could never have been permitted to pass into law, which were afterwards so shamefully and cruelly oppressive to the Presbyterian

party. But no length of time elapsed before Charles began to show himself in his true character: goodnatured, but cold hearted; always ready to make promises, but too careless and too unprincipled to exert himself to perform them. He gave himself up to amusement, and to the unbounded gratification of his own sensual inclinations, and allowed himself to be persuaded to repress the party who were indeed most obnoxious to his own tastes. He cared very little which were the most favoured or the most injured, so that he was left untroubled and undisturbed in the enjoyment of his pleasures. The Episcopalian party had just cause of complaint, from the persecutions and oppressions under which they had suffered. There is reason to suppose that Cromwell, in the latter part of his life, would willingly have restored their establishment, and their form of worship, had it been in his power to do so. But when the war of the parliament against the king first broke out, some of the best and holiest men in the whole country, the bishops and divines of the Episcopalian church, had been treated with a severity and injustice for which there could be no excuse. Such men were Usher and Hall, and we might add many to the number. But it is the dnty of all Christian men to return good for evil; and the true disciples of Christ should have rejoiced at the opportunity which was then afforded them of carrying out into practice their Master's rule. Men of large hearts would have deemed it their privilege to do so. That too many

of the rulers in the church of England at that day did just the contrary must ever be recorded to their shame and their disgrace. It is, however, the effect of party spirit to narrow the minds even of good men, to blind the judgment, to harden the heart, and to pervert the sense of what is just and unjust, right and wrong. The king had often repeated his promise, that he would grant liberty of

conscience to his people, that he would use all his influence to reconcile the conflicting opinions of various parties, that he desired the church should be governed both by bishops and Presbyters united in synods, and that the liturgy should be revised by a body of learned men, one half of which should be composed of Presbyterian divines, and the other half of Episcopalian clergymen. But it has been truly said, that "when the king had thus laid asleep the vigilance of those whom he most feared, he dissolved the parliament," that parliament which had recalled him to the throne, the majorty of which was composed of the Presbyterians.

In the beginning of 1661 a general election took place, and the new parliament consisted almost entirely of men of the most opposite views and character to those who had lately legislated for the nation. The tide of reaction was rushing on with increasing violence, and the news-letters, which came from time to time from London, brought accounts of the proceedings of the new parliament. It was but too evident that the hopes of the Presbyterians were fast losing ground. In the previous year there had been every reason to suppose, from the accounts which were received, that all parties would be reconciled. When Baxter had spoken to the king he had been heard with the most gracious attention. "I ventured to tell him," he says, alluding to the occasion upon which he and the other royal chaplains waited upon Charles, "that we spoke on behalf of a people who, if they lost the faithful preaching of the Gospel, would be broken-hearted, whatever else they should enjoy." The king had assured them that he would attempt the healing work himself, and bring the prelatists and themselves, if he were able, to an agreement by concessions to be kindly made on both sides. "If this is not accomplished," he added, "the fault shall be on your part,