The following account from a contemporary autobiography is interesting in connexion with Farindon:--I had usually frequented St. Gregory's, Dr. Mossam's, Dr. Wild's, Dr. Gunning's, or some other congregations where the orthodox clergy preached and administered the sacraments; but the soldiers often disturbing those congregations, it was not so convenient for my father to appear there. Coming into Milk Street church one Sunday, I found very few in it, but Mr. Robinson helped me to a seat, and there I heard Mr. Farindon, that excellent scholar and preacher. It was his first day. Mr. Case had been there for some years, and the parishioners were now divided about a successor; some would have an Independent, others a Presbyterian, and there were several meetings and competitions, but no agreement, nor like to be; whereupon Mr. Robinson desired he might put one into the pulpit until they could agree; and said they should choose whether they should pay him or not. And so he got the pulpit and put Mr. Farindon into it, which he kept two or three years. I went home and told my father I had found a church where he might safely go, where was room enough, and where he might hear a most excellent orthodox preacher. My grandmother, Mrs. Moundeford, then dwelt in that parish; so the next Sunday my father and myself went thither, and Mr. Farindon preached again; my father's coach standing in the street near the church, gave occasion to some to look in, and in a short time the congregation so increased that it was very difficult to get a place.[307] Farindon was an intimate friend of the memorable John Hales; and Aubrey, amidst his charming gossipings, enables us to picture the latter spending much of his time at Lady Salter's, at Eton, he having been a fellow of the College there. "He lodged, after his sequestration, at the next house, the Christopher Inn, where I saw him, a pretty _little_ man, sanguine, of a cheerful countenance, very gentle and courteous. I was received by him with much humanity. He was in a kind of violet-coloured cloth gown, with buttons and loops, (he wore not a black gown), and was reading Thomas à Kempis; it was within a year before he deceased. He loved canary, but moderately, to refresh his spirits. He had a bountiful mind."[308] [Sidenote: _Hardy._]