plays, that he almost wholly forsook his studies. By this he not only lost much time, but found that his head was thereby filled with vain images of things;* and being afterwards sensible of the mischief of this, he resolved upon his coming to London, never to see a play again, to which he constantly adhered. The corruption of a young man's mind, in one particular, generally draws on a great many more after it; so he being now taken off from his studies, and from the gravity of his deportment, which was formerly eminent in him, far beyond his years, set himself to many vanities incident to youth, but still preserved his outward purity, with great probity of mind.. He loved fine clothes, and delighted much in company : And being of a robust body, he was a great master at all those exercises that required much strength. He also learned to fence, and became so expert that he worsted many masters of those arts.† He now was so taken with martial matters, that instead of going on in his design of being a scholar or a divine, he resolved to be a soldier: And his tutor, Mr. Obadiah Sedgwick, going into the Low Countries chaplain to the renowned Lord Vere, he resolved to go along with him, and to trail a pike in the Prince of Orange's army; but a happy stop was put to this resolution, which might have proved so fatal to himself, and have deprived the age of the great example he gave, and the useful services he afterwards did his country. He was engaged in a suit of law, and was forced to leave the university, after he had been there three years, and go to London. He was commended to serjeant Glanville for his counsellor, and he observing in him a clear apprehension of things, and a solid judgment, and a great fitness for the study of the law, took pains to persuade him to forsake the thoughts of being a soldier, and to apply to the study of the law. He * If nothing else were to be objected in plays, the false notions of human life which they are known to impress, form a very sufficient reason, why young persons should be restrained from them. But when their nonsense and immorality are considered, nothing further needs to be said about them to a truly Christian mind. + Bishop Burnet relates, that a fencing master told Mr. Hale he could teach him no more, for he was now better at the trade than he was. Mr. Hale looked on this as flattery, and to know the truth, promised this master to give him the house he lived in, if he could hit him a blow on the head; (he was his landlord) the fencing master, after a little engagement, hit him on the head, and Mr. Hale gave him the house freely; and was not unwilling at that rate to learn so early to distinguish flattery from plain and simple truth. He was prevailed on and on the eighth of November 1629, in the twenty-first year of his age, he was admitted into Lincoln's Inn: And being then deeply sensible how much time he had lost, and that idle and vain things had over-run and almost corrupted his mind, he resolved to redeem the time, and followed his studies with a diligence which could scarce be believed, if the signal effects of it did not gain credit to it. He studied for many years at the rate of sixteen hours a-day: He threw aside all fine clothes, and betook himself to a plain fashion, which he continued to use in many points to his dying day. It is related, that passing from the extreme of vanity in his apparel, to that of neglecting himself too much, he was once taken when there was a press for the king's service, as a fit person for it. But some that knew him coming by, and giving notice who he was, the pressmen let him go, and he returned to more decency in his *Bishop Burnet relates the following history to the honour of serjeant Glanville, who was so instrumental in reclaiming Sir Matthew Hale from his bad course of life: -Serjeant Glanville's father bad a fair estate, which he intended to settle on the serjeant's elder brother, but he being a vicious young man, and there appearing no hopes of his recovery, he settled it on him, that was his second son. Upon his death, his eldest son finding what he had before looked on as the threatenings of an angry father was now but too certain, became melancholy, and that by degrees wrought so great a change on him, that what his father could not prevail in while he lived, was now effected by the severity of his last will, so that it was now too late for him to change, in hopes of au estate that was gone from him. But his brother observing the reality of the change, resolved within himself what to do: So he called him, with many of his friends, together to a feast, and after other dishes had been served up to the dinner, he ordered one that was covered to be set before his brother, and desired him to uncover it; which he doing, the company was surprized to find it full of writings. So he told them, that he was now to do what he was sure his father would have done, if he had lived to see that happy change, which they now all saw in his brother: And therefore he freely restored to him the whole estate. Burnet's Life, &c. p. 11, 12. It is observed, that Sir Matthew Hale, from the first time that the impressions of religion settled deeply in his mind, used great caution to conceal it for he said, he was afraid he should at some time or other do some enormous thing, which if he were looked on as a very religious man, might cast a reproach on the profession of it, and give great advantages to impious men to blaspheme the name of GoD: But a tree is known by its fruits, and he lived not only free of blemishes or scandal, but shined in all the parts of his conversation: And perhaps the distrust he was in of himself, contributed not a little to the purity of his life; for he being thereby obliged to be more watchfal over himself, and to depend more on the aids of the spirit of Gon, no wonder if that humble temper produced those excellent effects in him Burnet's Life, &c. p. 141, &c. his dress, but never to superfluity or vanity. Yet he did not at first break off from keeping too much company with some vain persons, till a sad accident drove him from it. He was invited, with other young students, to be merry out of town, and one of the company called for so much wine, that, notwithstanding all Mr. Hale could do to prevent it, he went on in his excess, till he fell down as dead before them, so that all that were present were not a little affrighted at it, who did what they could to bring him to himself again: This particularly affected Mr. Hale, who thereupon went into another room, and shutting the door fell on his knees, and prayed earnestly to Gop, both for his friend, that he might be restored to life again, and that himself might be forgiven, for giving such countenance to so much excess: And he vowed to Gop, that he would never again keep company in that manner, nor drink a health while he lived His friend recovered, and he most religiously observed his vow to his dying day; though he was sometimes roughly treated for this, which some hot and indiscreet men called obstinacy. * Now *This conversion of Mr. Hale was occasioned by another's drunkenness: Our pious readers will not be displeased, if we relate a more extraordinary instance of a man's being converted by means of his own. This very singular fact is taken from Turner's 'Remarkable Providences; and its authenticity (as the reader will see at the conclusion of the story) cannot reasonably be doubted. In the early part of the last century, one, old Mr. Studly, was a lawyer in Kent, of about four hundred pounds a-year. He was a great enemy to the power of religion, and a hater of those that were then called puritans. His son, in his youth, seemed to follow in the same steps, till the Lord, that had separated him from the womb, called him home, which was as followeth: The young man was at London, and being drunk in some company, and going in the night towards his lodging, fell into a cellar, and in the fall was seized with horror, and thought he fell into hell at that time. It pleased GOD he took little harm by the fall, but lay there some hours in a drunken drowse, his body being heated with what he drank, and his soul awakened, he thought he was actually in hell. After that he was come to himself, and was got home into Kent, he fell into melancholy, betook himself to read and study the Scriptures, and to much prayer: Which at length his father perceived, and fearing he would turn puritan, was troubled and dealt roughly with him, and made him dress his horses, which he humbly and willingly submitted to. And when, at that time, his father perceived he sat up late at night, reading in his Bible, he depied him candle-light; but being allowed a fire in his chamber, he told Mr. Knight, he was wont to lye along and read by the fire-light; and said, that while he was dressing his father's horses in his frock, and in that time of reading by the fire, he had those comforts from the Lord, and joys that he had scarce experienced since. His father seeing these means ineffec Now was an entire change wrought on him; now he forsook all vain company, and divided himself between the At ineffectual, resolved to send him into France, that by the airiness of that country his melancholy temper might be cured. He went, and being at his own dispose, by the Lord's guiding him, he placed himself in the house of a godly protestant minister; and between them, after they were acquainted, (and such is the cognation of saving grace in divers subjects, that a little time will serve for Christians to be acquainted) there grew great endearment. Great progress he made in speaking the language; and his father expecting an account from the gentleman with whom he sojourned, of his proficiency in speaking French, he sent it to him; but soon after, he had orders to return home. And the father directing it, or he intreating it, the landlord, with whom he had sojourned, came into Englaud with him, and both were made very welcome at his father's house, he not knowing that he was a minister. length the father took the French gentleman and his son at prayers together, and was angry, paid him what was due to him, and sent him away. Then his father having an interest in a person of honour, a great lady at Whitehall, and his son by his now past education accomplished for such an employ, prevailed with that lady to take his son for her gentleman, to wait upon her in her coach. He thought by a court life to drive away his melancholy (as he called his son's seriousness in religion.) The lady had many servants, some given to swearing and rudeness, whom this young gentleman would take upon him to reprove, with that prudence and gravity, that sin fell down before him. And if any of the servants had been ill employed, and they had heard him coming, they would say, 'Let us cease, or begone, Mr. Studly is coming.' After a year's time, his father waits upon the lady, to enquire of his son's carriage. She answered as it was, that she was glad she had seen his son's face, he had wrought a mighty reformation in her family. She, that had formerly been troubled with unruly servants, by his prudent carriage, was now as quiet in her house as if she had lived in a private` family in the country. After this the father stormed, What, will he make puritans in Whitehall?' told the lady that was no place for him, he would take him with him, which to her trouble he did. When he had him at home in Kent, as his last refuge, he thought of marrying him; and to that end found out a match which he thought fit for his ends, to stifle that work of religion in his son. He bade him one night put on his clothes in the morning, and ordered his servants to make ready their horses in the morning, and himself to wait upon them. When they were riding on the way, he bade the man ride before, and spake to his son to this purpose. Son, you have been matter of great grief to me, and having used much means to reclaim you from this way you are in, to no purpose, I have one inore remedy to apply in which if you comply with me I shall settle my estate upon you, else you shall never enjoy a groat of it; I am riding to such a gentleman's house, to whose daughter I intend to marry you.' The son said little, knowing that family to be profaue; but went with his father, who before had made way there. They were entertained nobly; he had a sight of the young lady, a great beauty, and the young man fell much in love with her. When they had taken their leaves, on his way, his father asked him, 'What he thought of her?' He answered, "No man living, but must be taken with such a one; he feared she would not like him." The father was glad it had taken, bid him take no care for that. The wooing the duties of religion, and the studies of his profession; in the former he was so regular, that for six-and-thirty years, wooing was not long: At three weeks' end they both came to London to buy things for the wedding. The father had charged, that in the time of wooing in that gentleman's house, there should be no swearing or debauchery, lest his son should be discouraged. Wedding clothes being bought, and the day come, the young couple were married. At the wedding dinner, at her father's house, the mask was taken off; they feli to drinking healths, and swearing among their cups; and, amongst others, the bride swore an oath. At which the bridegroom, as a man amazed, took occasion to rise from the table, stepped forth, and went to the stable, took an horse, none observing, all being busy within; he mounted, and rode away, not knowing what to do. He bewailed himself as he rode along, as undone, and deservedly; for that he had been so taken in love, and the business so hurried on in design; he said he had at that time restrained prayer, and slackened his communion with GOD, when, as in that grand affair of his life, he should have been doubly and trebly serious; and so might thank himself, that he was utterly undone. He sometimes thought of riding quite away. At last, being among the woods, he led his horse into a solitary place, tied him to a tree in his distress, and betook himself to his prayers and tears, in which he spent the afternoon. The providence of GoD had altered his argument of prayer; which was now for the conversion of his new married wife, or he was undone. This he pressed with prayers and tears a great part of the afternoon, and did not rise from prayer with out good hope of being heard. At the bride-house was hurry enough; horse and man (after they missed the bridegroom) sent every way. No news of him. He was wrestling as Jacob once at Peniel. In the evening he returned home, and inquiring where his bride was, went up to her, and found her in her chamber pensive enough; she asked him, If he had done well to expose her to scorn and derision all the day?" He intreated her to sit down upon a conch there by him, and he would give her an account of his doing what he had then done, and tell her the story of his whole life, and what the Lord through grace had done for him. He went over the story here above-mentioned, with many beau. tiful particulars, (no doubt here omitted) not without great affection and tears, the flood-gates of which had been opened in the wood. And ever and anon in the discourse would say, through grace, God did so and so for me. When he had told her his story over, (and by the way, this was the apostle Paul's method by which many were converted, to tell over the story of his conversion) she asked him, what he meant by that word so often used in the relation of his life, through grace," so ignorantly had she been educated: And she asked him, if he thought there were no grace in Gop for her, who was so wretched a stranger to GOD? "Yes, my dear, (saith he) there is grace for thee, and that I have been praying for this day in the wood; and God hath heard my prayer, and seen my tears, and let us now go together to him about it." Then did they kneel down by the couch side, and he prayed, and such weeping and supplication there was on both sides, that when they were called down to supper, they had hardly eyes to see with, so swelled were they with weeping. At supper, the bride's father (according to his custom) swore. The bride immediately said, Father, I beseech you swear not,' At which the bridegroom's father, in a great rage, rose from the table: "What, (says he) is the devil in Lim? hath he made his wife a puritan |