The story of that Episcopate cannot be told here. It has been written in a faithful record accessible to all, and with which most of us must be familiar. For almost twelve years the parish priest in New London did his pastor's work, the humble-minded bishop went, in homely ways, [Footnote: In a book published some years ago, it was said that all clergymen in Connecticut travelled, at the period spoken of, on horseback, "except, perhaps, Bishop Seabury, who rode in a coach," He may have "ridden" in a stage-coach, or in a coach belonging to some wealthy layman; but the only vehicle which he ever possessed was a "one- horse chaise."] in and out among his people, feeding the flock "according to the integrity of his heart, and guiding them by the skilfulness of his hands." And when God took him to his rest, the mourning of his diocese was like the "mourning in the floor of Atad," and the poor and the suffering, the widow and the fatherless followed him to his grave, and wrote his epitaph in their tears. The power and value of an Episcopate like his cannot be measured by immediate results--though such results were not lacking--which are visible along its progress and at its close. Not only was it not his peacefully to build on undisturbed foundations; it was not even his to lay in peace original foundations. His was the harder, the more hopeless task, to re-lay foundations which had been torn up and scattered, and then begin to build upon them. And under what discouragements was the task to be undertaken and prosecuted: with diminished and diminishing numbers of fellow-workers; with narrow resources and restricted means; amid manifold and unexpected difficulties; amid jealousies that not infrequently deepened into scornful enmity! How often must he have cried from the depths of his heart: "Who is weak, and I am not weak? who is offended, and I burn not?" Only a brave and genuine man, a man of prayer and faith and love, could have borne up under such wearying burdens. But he was all that, and even more than that. And, therefore, to us who look back upon our history as a diocese from the close of one century, to those who shall look back upon it from the close of another, nay, in all time, its central figure must be that massive one with which the limner's skill has made us all familiar, as it stands facing wind and storm, supported by the Word of God, which, in its turn, rests on the everlasting rock; the figure of him by whom the God of our fathers said to our "Jerusalem, Thou shalt be built; and to the temple, Thy foundation shall be laid." [Footnote: Isaiah xliv]