the church, except that of living with the bishop as one of his chaplains.

How long he continued unbeneficed, does not appear. It could not, however, be very long, because the rectory of Houghton-le-spring fell vacant, before Easington and the archdeaconry were disposed of; and the bishop, in a jocular way, made him an offer of all the three, which it was not likely he would listen to. He thanked the bishop, however, and accepted Houghton. This rectory was of considerable value, about 400l. per annum, but the duty of it was proportionably laborious, it being so extensive as to contain no less than fourteen villages, overrun with the darkness of popish ignorance and superstition. Gilpin, however, did not despair. He implored the assistance of God, and his sincere endeavours met with it. The people crowded about him, and heard him with attention, perceiving him a teacher of a different kind from those to whom they had hitherto been accustomed. This very cause, however, increased the malice of his enemies, and he was again formally accused before the bishop of Durham. How the bishop behaved at this time, we are not particularly informed; but no man knew better how to act upon an emergency; and it is certain that Mr. Gilpin was acquitted. The malice of his enemies succeeded, however, in part, for the bishop's favour to him from this time visibly declined; though it is questionable, whether he really felt the indifference he expressed; or perhaps he might think it advisable thus far to temporize; hoping to deduct the sum of his own from the ill-will of others. this as it may, Mr. Gilpin acknowledged his great obligations to the bishop; was sorry to see him disgusted; and would have given up any thing to have him satisfied, except his conscience.

Be

His enemies, in the mean time, were not thus silenced. Though they had been defeated a second time, they were only the more spirited up by that additional rancour which generally attends the baffled designs of the malicious. Convinced how impossible it was to work up the bishop of Durham's zeal to the height they wished, they therefore laid thirty-two articles against their intended victim before bishop Bonner. Bonner extolled their laudable zeal for religion, and promised that the heretic should be at a stake in a fortnight. Of this determination Mr. Gilpin's friends in London apprized him by a special messenger, but he

had long been preparing to suffer for the truth, and now determined not to decline it. He even had a garment made in which he might go decently to the stake, and used to put it on every day until Bonner's messengers apprehended him. In his way to London, it is said he broke his leg, which put a stop for some time to his journey, and before he was able to travel, queen Mary died, and he was set at liberty. This account of his accident has been doubted, but it is certain that the news of the queen's. death met him upon the road, and put a stop to any farther prosecution. He then returned to Houghton through crowds of people, triumphantly expressing the utmost joy, and blessing God for his deliverance.

When the popish bishops were deprived, and many sees by that means vacant, Mr. Gilpin's friends at court, particularly the earl of Bedford, thought it a good opportunity to use their interest in his favour, and he was accordingly nominated to the see of Carlisle, but notwithstanding the pressing solicitations of his noble friends, and of Sandys, bishop of Worcester, he persisted in declining this high honour, as being unworthy of it. It is somewhat strange that Nicolson in his "Historical Library," and Heylin in his "Church History," should ascribe his conduct to lucrative motives, a calumny which has been amply refuted by his biographer. Both these writers indeed seem to have been very little acquainted with Mr. Gilpin's character, in which disinterestedness bore so principal a part. The year after his refusal of the bishopric of Carlisle, he was offered the provostship of Queen's college, Oxford, which he also refused; and thus having had in his option almost every kind of preferment which an ecclesiastic is capable of holding, he sat down with one living, which gratified the utmost of his desires.

Soon after queen Elizabeth's accession, a general visitation was held. An assembly of divines, among whom were Parker, Grindal, and Sandys, having finished a body of injunctions and articles, commissions were issued out, impowering proper persons to enforce them; the oath of supremacy was to be tendered to the clergy, and a subscription imposed. When the visitors came to Durham, Mr. Gilpin was requested to preach before the clergy, against the pope's supremacy. To this he had no objection, but did not like the thoughts of subscribing, baving some doubts with regard to one or more of the articles.

His curate having not these scruples, he hoped that his subscription might satisfy the visitors; but next day, when the clergy were assembled to subscribe, as an instance of respect Mr. Gilpin was first called upon. The emergency allowed him no time for reflection. He just considered with himself, that upon the whole these alterations in religion were certainly right; that he doubted only in a few immaterial points; and that, if he should refuse, it might be a means to keep others back. He then took up the pen, and, with some hesitation, at length subscribed. Afterwards retiring, he sent a letter to the visitors, acquainting them in what sense he subscribed the articles; which they accepted very favourably.

When in order to enlighten the nation in true learning and religion, public schools began to be recommended, Mr. Gilpin endeavoured to promote the good work with the utmost of his ability. As his manner of living was most affluent and generous, and his hospitality and charities made daily a larger demand upon him, it was thought extraordinary, that, amidst such great expences, he should entertain the design of building and endowing a grammar school; yet his exact economy soon enabled him to accomplish this, and the effects of his endowment were very quickly seen his school was no sooner opened than it began to flourish, and to afford the agreeable prospect of a succeeding generation rising above the ignorance and errors of their forefathers. He not only placed able masters in his school, whom he procured from Oxford, but himself constantly inspected it, and took an active part in the education of the scholars. Such was his benevolence that whenever he met with a poor boy upon the road, he would make trial of his capacity by a few questions; and if he found it such as pleased him, he would provide for his education. From the school also he sent several to the universities, where he maintained them wholly at his own Nor was this munificent and uncommon care expence. unrewarded. Many of his scholars became great ornaments to the church, and exemplary instances of piety, among whom have been particularly mentioned, Henry Ayray, afterwards provost of Queen's college; George Carleton, bishop of Chichester; and Hugh Broughton. It was also at Mr. Gilpin's suggestion that his friend bishop Pilkington founded a school at the place of his nativity in Lancashire, the statutes of which he revised and corrected at the bishop's request.

Mr. Gilpin's general reputation for learning and piety, made it the desire of persons of all religious persuasions to have their cause credited by his authority; and among others, the first dissenters, or puritans, who had contracted prejudices against certain church ceremonies, habits, &c. made early applications to Mr. Gilpin, but without effect. The reformation, he said, was just; essentials were there concerned; but at present he saw no ground for disaffection. The church of England, he thought, gave no reasonable offence. Some things there might be in it, which had been perhaps as well avoided (probably meaning the use of the vestments), but to disturb the peace of a nation for such trifles, he thought, was quite unchristian. And what indeed appeared to him chiefly blameable in the dissenters, was, that heat of temper with which they propagated their opinions, and treated those who differed from them. Such was not his practice, for he confined all his dislike to their sentiments, urged with intemperate warmth, but bore not the least ill-will to their persons. One of the most intimate friends he ever had was Mr. Lever, a minister of their persuasion, and a sufferer in their cause. It is almost needless to add, that he found it equally or more easy to resist the solicitations of the papists, who lamented, as they well might, that so good a man had forsaken their communion, and consequently they left no methods untried to bring him back.

His hospitable manner of living was the admiration of the whole country, and strangers and travellers met with a cheerful reception. Even their beasts had so much care taken of them, that it was humorously said, "if a horse was turned loose in any part of the country, it would immediately make its way to the rector of Houghton's." Every Sunday, from Michaelmas to Easter, was a sort of public day with him. During this season, he expected to see all his parishioners and their families, whom be seated, according to their ranks, at three tables; and when absent from home, the same establishment was kept up. When. lord Burleigh, then lord treasurer, was sent on public affairs into Scotland, he unexpectedly paid a visit to Mr. Gilpin, but the economy of his house was not easily disconcerted, and he entertained the statesman and his retinue in such a manner as made him acknowledge "be could hardly have expected more at Lambeth." On looking back from an eminence, after he had left Houghton,

Burleigh could not help exclaiming, "There is the enjoyment of life indeed! who can blame that man for not accepting of a bishopric! what doth he want to make him greater, or happier, or more useful to mankind!" Mr. Gilpin's labours extended beyond his own parish; he every year visited divers neglected parishes in Northumberland, Yorkshire, Cheshire, Westmoreland, and Cumberland; and that his own flock might not suffer, he was at the expence of a constant assistant. In all his journeys he did not fail to visit the gaols and places of confinement; and by his labours and affectionate manner of behaviour, he is said to have reformed many abandoned persons in those abodes of human misery. He had set places and times for preaching in the different parts of the country, which were as regularly attended as the assize towns of a circuit. If he came to a place in which there was a church, he made use of it; if not, of barns, or any other large building, where great crowds of persons were sure to attend him, some for his instructions, more, perhaps, to partake of his bounty; but in his discourses he had a sort of enthusiastic warmth, which roused many to a sense of religion who had never thought of any thing serious before. The dangers and fatigues attending this employment were, in his estimation, abundantly compensated by the advantages which he hoped would accrue from them to his uninstructed fellow-creatures. He did not spare the rich; and in a discourse before Barnes, bishop of Durham, who had already conceived a prejudice against him, he spoke with so much freedom, that his best friends dreaded the result; they rebuked him for giving the prelate a handle against him, to which he replied, "If the discourse should do the good he intended by it, he was regardless of the consequences to himself." He then waited on the prelate, who said, “Sir, I propose to wait upon you home myself." When they arrived at the rectory, and entered the house, the bishop turned suddenly round, and grasped him eagerly by the hand, saying, "Father Gilpin, I know you are fitter to be bishop of Durham, than I am to be parson of this church of yours. I ask forgiveness for past injuries. Forgive me, father, I know you have enemies, but while I live bishop of Durham, none of them shall cause you any further trouble."

For many interesting and honourable anecdotes of the conduct of this extraordinary man we must refer to his life