and other good works.” Deficient in definiteness upon these points, Farindon is clear in reference to the Trinity, the Incarnation, and the Atonement. He expounds them in an orthodox way, yet he does not dwell upon them so frequently, and at such length, as his Anglican and Puritan contemporaries. He is no Calvinist; without entering into lengthened controversy on the five points, he shows his great dislike to Calvin’s views.[466] He holds decidedly that Christ died for all men; and with caustic reasoning, shows that, when it is said, “God so loved the world,” it cannot mean, He so loved the elect.[467] His Arminianism is perhaps nearly, if not quite, as evangelical as that of our Wesleyan brethren, but he lacks the fervour with which they set forth the verities of Christianity in relation to the deepest wants of man. Puritans could scarcely apply the moral lessons of the Gospel to the hearts of men on grounds more evangelic than those presented by Farindon; but we miss in his sermons a penetrating fire like that of John Owen, and a melting pathos like that of Richard Baxter. [Sidenote: CAMBRIDGE SCHOOL.] The way is now open for viewing that division of thinkers who distinguished themselves, after the Restoration, by the breadth of their opinions. They followed in the steps of those whom we have now described, but in some particulars they went far beyond them. In a former volume I touched upon the Cambridge school of theologians; it remains for me to trace the subsequent development and progress of their peculiarities. They early received the name of Latitudinarians, and in 1662 their name had passed into everybody’s mouth, although its explicit meaning, it was said, remained as great a mystery as the order of the Rosicrucians. Some spoke of them as holding dangerous opinions, others defended them; but all which people in general knew seemed to be that the new school of thinkers mostly belonged to the University of Cambridge, and that they mostly followed the new philosophy.