Jericho affords not the least mention. An occasional occurrence of such errors is indeed unavoidable; and, irrelevant as some of his illustrations are, and uncertain as may be the truth of others, there is none, perhaps, of his readers who would wish those illustrations fewer, to which his works owe so much of their force, their impressiveness, and their entertainment. As a reasoner, I do not think him matchless. He is, indeed, always acute, and, in practical questions, almost always sensible. His knowledge was so vast, that on every point of discussion he set out with great advantage, as being familiar with all the necessary preliminaries of the question, and with every ground or argument, which had been elicited on either side by former controversies. But his own understanding was rather inventive than critical. He never failed to find a plausible argument for any opinion, which he himself entertained; he was as ready with plausible objections to every argument, which might be advanced by his adversaries; and he was completely acquainted with the whole detail of controversial attack and defence, and of every weapon of eloquence, irony, or sarcasm, which was most proper to persuade or to silence. But his own views were sometimes indistinct, and often hasty. His opinions, therefore, though always honest and ardent, he had sometimes occasion, in the course of his life, to change; and instances have been already pointed out, not only where his reasoning is inconclusive, but were positions, ardently maintained in some of his writings, are doubted

or denied in others. But it should be remembered how much he wrote during a life in itself not long, and, in its circumstances, by no means favourable to active research or calm reasoning. Nor can it be a subject of surprise, that a poor and oppressed man should be sometimes hurried too far in opposition to his persecutors, or that one who had so little leisure for the correction of his works, should occasionally be found to contradict or repeat himself.

'I have already had occasion to point out the versatility of his talents, which, though uniformly exerted on subjects appropriate to his profession, are distinguished, where such weapons are needed, by irony and caustic humour, as well as by those milder and sublimer beauties of style and sentiment, which are his more familiar and distinguishing characteristics. Yet to such weapons he has never recourse wantonly or rashly. Nor do I recollect any instance, in which he has employed them in the cause of private or personal, or even polemical hostility, or any occasion where their fullest severity was not justified and called for by crimes, by cruelty, by interested superstition, or base and sordid hypocrisy. His satire was always kept in check by the depth and fervour of his religious feelings, his charity, and his humility. It is on devotional and moral subjects, however, that the peculiar character of his mind is most, and most successfully developed. To this service he devotes his most glowing language; to this his aptest illustrations; his thoughts, and his words,

at once burst into a flame, when touched by the coals of this altar; and whether he describes the duties, or dangers, or hopes of man, or the mercy, power, and justice of the Most High; whether he exhorts or instructs his brethren, or offers up his supplications in their behalf to the common Father of all,―his conceptions and his expressions belong to the loftiest and most sacred description of poetry, of which they only want, what they cannot be said to need, the name and the metrical arrangement.

'It is this distinctive excellence, still more than the other qualifications of learning and logical acuteness, which has placed him, even in that age of gigantic talent, on an eminence superior to any of his immediate cotemporaries; which has exempted him from the comparative neglect, into which the dry and repulsive learning of Andrews and Sanderson has fallen ;-which has left behind the acuteness of Hales, and the imaginative and copious eloquence of Bishop Hall, at a distance hardly less than the cold elegance of Clarke, and the dull good sense of Tillotson; and has seated him, by the almost unanimous estimate of posterity, on the same lofty elevation of Hooker and with Barrow.

'Of such a triumvirate, who shall settle the precedence? Yet it may, perhaps, be not far from the truth, to observe, that Hooker claims the foremost rank in sustained and classic dignity of style, in political and pragmatical wisdom; that to Barrow the praise must

be assigned of the closest and the clearest views, and of a taste the most controlled and chastened; but that in imagination, in interest, in that which more properly and exclusively deserves the name of genius, Taylor is to be placed before either. The first awes most, the second convinces most, the third persuades and delights the most; and, (according to the decision of one, whose own rank among the ornaments of English literature yet remains to be determined by posterity,) Hooker is the object of our reverence, Barrow of our admiration, and Jeremy Taylor of our love.'

original sin, on which doctrine Taylor's opponents insisted that he was heterodox, and had strayed far from the folds of the true church. Taylor argued from Scripture, from common sense, and from the opinions of early fathers, to prove that men could be accountable only for their own sins, and that sin was an actual transgression, and not an inheritance entailed on all the human race by Adam. This was called heresy, the pillars of the church were said to be in danger, and Taylor was assailed by a clamour, which inflicted a severe trial on his patience and equanimity, but which, so far from convincing him of error, strengthened his first impressions, in proportion as it drove him to examine more deeply and thoroughly into the subject.

How long he was confined a prisoner in Chepstow Castle is not certain. He was released, however, as early as the end of the year 1656, for in February of the next year we find him writing to a friend, that he had been visited by a recent calamity in the sudden death of two of his sons, and much sickness in his family. In the same letter he signifies his intention of going shortly to London with his third son. This purpose he soon accomplished, and never returned again to reside in Wales. His studies occupied his time and thoughts in London, and he preached there to a small congregation of royalists in a private way, but not without the risk of incurring the censure or persecution of the predominant party. One of his best performances, a Discourse on the Nature and Offices of Friendship,