that and his own wisdom, acquirements, and subtilty, leaning to his own spirit and understanding, I must decline that way and trust in the Spirit of Christ, the divine Author of the Holy Scriptures. And as this caution was presented in the life and virtue of truth, I rested satisfied therein, and searched no further on that occasion. When I went to his house, he entered into a discourse on those subjects; and had such passages of Scripture folded down as he purposed to use. And when I observed it, I was confirmed that my sight of him in my own chamber at Carlisle, and of his work some days before, was right, [as if, to intercalate a remark, it needed prescience to foretell that the Doctor’s appeal would be ‘to the Law and to the Testimony’!!] and my mind was strengthened thereby. But before he began to move upon the subject, he dismissed every other person out of the room, so that himself and I remained alone. The first thing he said was, in a calm manner, to admonish me to be very cautious how I espoused the errors of the Quakers; for he had heard of late and with concern that I had been among them, or seemed to incline that way. I answered that I had not been much among them, nor seen any of their books but those I had sent him, and knew not of any errors they held. Yes, said he, they deny the ordinances of Christ, the two sacraments—Baptism and the Lord s Supper; and then opened his book [his!] at one of his down-folded leaves, where he read thus, 1 Cor. i. 2, xi. 23, 26....’ Now follows the usual delusive appeals beyond the ‘letter,’ as ‘carnal,’ and all the unconsciously-blaspheming, ‘_setting-aside_,’ of plain words that reveal ‘the mind of the Spirit,’ commingled with a simple-minded self-superiority which need not be illustrated. Very patient and wonderingly-silent must have been the Doctor with his undoubtedly pious and acute, but most perverse, visitor. He thus closes, ‘The Doctor did not oppose this, [about prayer,] but only said I had given him better satisfaction on that point than he had found in the book; and afterwards he was much more free and familiar with me than before, or than I expected: and so we parted in friendship, and I returned in peace and gladness,’[73] (pp. 41-45.) But by far the most important, as it is the most elaborate, ‘estimate’ of our Worthy, is that of Calamy, who, usually marked by judicial calm, and chary of praise, glows and burns in the fulness of his admiration. The fervour of his eulogy of Gilpin contrasts with his usual matter-of-fact statements, and surprises by its suddenness and passion. With this I shall close those personal tributes by contemporaries. Thus the ‘Account’ under ‘Grastoke’ runs:—