One clergyman claims separate notice as a foreigner, a poor pluralist, and an exceedingly popular preacher. Dr. Horneck, a native of Bacharach--so familiar to all Rhine tourists--held, in conjunction with a stall at Exeter worth only twenty pounds a year, the preachership of the Savoy, which afforded but a miserable income. His poverty ended three years before his death, when, through the united kindness of Queen Mary and Archbishop Tillotson, he was made Prebendary of Westminster. But from first to last his ministry was exceedingly popular; it was no easy matter for him to get through the crowd to his pulpit. So great was the number of communicants at his church, that he had to seek the help of clergymen in the delivery of the bread and wine, “and with such assistance it was very late before the congregation could be dismissed.”[401] His virtues are extolled in the epitaph inscribed on his monument in the Abbey. [Sidenote: 1688–1702.] Leaving men of honourable renown, in order to throw in truthful shadows amidst grateful lights, I will mention a case of their fanaticism. It appears in the life of John Mason, Rector of Walter Stratford, in Buckinghamshire.[402] Holding Predestinarian opinions to such an extent as to acknowledge no other difference between Judas and St. Peter than what proceeded from absolute decrees and irresistible grace; and further believing that it was all one whether a man kept the commandments or broke them, inasmuch as Christ observed the whole law on behalf of His people; this strange mortal, who had drunk the dregs of Antinomianism, added to his absurd caricatures of Calvinism, other ideas equally extravagant respecting the personal reign of Christ--a reign which he expected would instantly be set up. So far as extreme Predestinarianism and Millenarianism are concerned, he may be taken as typical of a small section of religious teachers living then, not entirely extinct even now; but he proceeded to the excess of regarding himself as a favoured recipient of celestial visions. Not long before his death, he fancied he saw Christ clothed in a crimson garment, His countenance exceedingly beautiful, with an abundance of sweetness and great majesty. Relatives indignantly denied a charitable report that he was mad, and did not doubt he would prove the prophet of the age--a Noah to warn the world, a John the Baptist to herald in the Messiah, an Elijah sent before the just and terrible day. Beyond his own circle, belief in his predictions spread, until nigh a hundred followers from the country ten miles round came to the rectory, and took up their abode within and around it, waiting for a revelation, which it was said came on the 16th of April, 1694, in the manner described. “When I entered the house,” relates one who wrote an account of his visit, “a more melancholy scene of a spiritual Bedlam presented itself. Men, women, and children running up and down, onewhile stretching their