the new Baptist minister, Elisha Callender, in 1718; and when Dudley, two years before his death,[234] joined Sewall in open attacks on Leverett and the government of Harvard College, there is little doubt where the sympathy of the Mathers lay.[235] They had hopes, too, that the new Connecticut college would register their edicts, since they could no longer enforce them at Cambridge. Sewall found the Lord’s Supper unsuggestive of charity, when the deacon offered the cup to Madam Winthrop before it was served to him; and we, to-day, had much rather see him riding about the country on his circuit, distributing tracts and sermons to squires and hostlers, and astonishing the children, as he rode into the shire-towns under the escort of the sheriff and his men. But Yale College, of which so much was hoped by the lingering puritanism, soon surprised them, when Timothy Cutler, its rector, with one of its tutors, and other Connecticut ministers, embraced Episcopacy in 1722. Governor Saltonstall was powerless to prevent it, when at Commencement the story of that defection was told. Cutler went to England, received Episcopal ordination, and came to Boston in 1724 to take charge of one of its English churches.[236] But before this the care of the body as well as of souls had proved a source of dispute with the ministers. Cotton Mather had read in the _Transactions_ of the Royal Society, to which he was sometimes a contributor himself, of the method which was employed in Turkey of disarming the small-pox of some of its terrors by the process of inoculation.[237] That disease was now raging. While the town was moving the governor to send the “Seahorse,” man-of-war, down to Spectacle Island, because she had the pest among her crew, Mather urged Dr. Zabdiel Boylston to make trial of the Turkish method. The selectmen of Boston and the town meeting opposed it. The House forbade it by bill; but the council hesitated. One of the most active of the physicians of Boston strenuously objected. This was William Douglass, who had been a student of medicine at Leyden and Paris, and who had come to Boston three years before. Other physicians were likewise in opposition. The passions were excited by the controversy; the press was divided; and Mather, who about this time was finding the people “bloody and barbarous,” the town “spiteful,” and the country “poisoned,”[238] had a grenado thrown through his window.[239]