visions are in it, and in religion, no unity among you. Then he began to pray heartily for his majesty, and that this kingdom might be settled in peace, the which he said, would never be, until there were unity of religion amongst them.

Then he said, I am brought hither for a priest and a traitor: that I am a priest, I have confessed, and as such, I thought to have left this, my country, in obedience to his majesty's proclamation; I went to receive that benefit for my passage, but was refused, and taken up on pretence of some few days past, beyond the limitation of the aforesaid proclamation, and brought to Dorchester prison, and am now for no other cause, (I thank God,) than for being a priest, to die, and not for any treason to my king or country. For I protest before Almighty God, I never wished hurt to my king or country, in my life; but I prayed for his majesty, and every day in my Memento at the holy mass, I offered and recommended him to God. But there were laws made in queen Elizabeth's days, by which it was made treason to be a priest. By this law, I am condemned for a traitor; but surely the ancient laws of this kingdom would never have done it, as the modern doth. And now, judge you, whether the laws so lately made by men, be sufficient to overthrow the authority of God's church, and to condemn the professors of it?

'Nevertheless, I forgive all the world from my heart, and all those who have had a hand in my death; and I beseech you all, if I have offended any of you in any thing, that you will every one forgive me. I have not had a purpose to give offence to any of you, and I pray God, give you all his grace to seek him, so as you may be able to attain his mercy and eternal glory.

Then he called to me, and desired me to commend him heartily to all his fellow-prisoners, and to all his friends. I told him, I would, and that some of them were gone before him, and with joy, expected him. Then, on my knees, I humbly begged his benediction; so did five more of ours, and he cheerfully gave us his blessing, making the sign of the holy cross over our heads. Then one Gilbert Loder, an attorney, asked him, if he did not deserve death, and believe his death to be just? To which, he replied, My death is unjust so pulling his cap over his face, his hands joined before his breast, in silent prayer, he expected almost half an hour, his happy passage, by the turning of the ladder, for not any one would put a hand to turn it, although the sheriff had spoken to many. I heard one bid him do it himself. At length, he got a country clown, who presently, with the help of the hangman, (who sat astride on the gallows,) turned the ladder, which being done, he was noted by himself and others, to cross himself three times with his right hand, as he hanged; but instantly, the hangman was commanded to cut him down with a knife which the constable held up to him, stuck in a long stick, although I and others, did our uttermost to have hindered him. Now the fall which he had from the gallows, not his hanging, did a little astonish him; for that they had willed the hangman to put the knot of the rope at his poll, and not under his ear, as it is usual. The man that was to quarter him, was a timorous unskilful man, by trade, a barber, and his name was Barefoot, whose

mother, sisters, and brothers, are devout catholics; he was so long a dismembering him, that he came to his perfect senses, and sat upright, and took Barefoot by the hand, to show, (as I believe,) that he forgave him; but the people pulled him down by the rope which was about his neck then did this butcher cut his belly on both sides, and turned the flap upon his breast, which the holy man feeling, put his left hand upon his bowels, and looking on his bloody hand, laid it down by his side; and lifting up his right hand, he crossed himself, saying three times, Jesu, Jesu, Jesu, mercy! The which, although unworthy, I am a witness of, for my hand was on his forehead; and many protestants heard him, and took great notice of it; for all the catholics were pressed away by the unruly multitude, except myself, who never left him, until his head was severed from his body. Whilst he was thus calling upon Jesus, the butcher did pull a piece of his liver out, instead of his heart, and tumbling his guts out every way, to see if his heart were not amongst them; then with his knife, he raked in the body of this blessed martyr, who, even then, called on Jesus, and his forehead sweat; then was it cold, and presently, again it burned; his eyes, nose, and mouth, run over with blood and water. His patience was admirable, and when his tongue could no longer pronounce that life-giving name, Jesu, his lips moved, and his inward groans, gave signs of those lamentable torments, which, for more than half an hour, he suffered. Methought my heart was pulled out of my body, to see him in such cruel pains, lifting up his eyes to heaven, and not yet dead; then I could no longer hold, but cried out upon them that did so torment him: upon which, a devout gentlewoman understanding he did yet live, went to Cancola, the Sheriff, who was her uncle's steward, and on her knees, besought him to see justice done, and to put him out of his pain, who at her request, commanded to cut off his head; then with a knife, they did cut his throat, and with a cleaver chopped off his head; and so this thrice most blessed martyr died. Then was his heart found and put upon a spear, and showed to the people, and so thrown into the fire, which was on the side of a hill. They say the heart did roll from the fire, and that a woman did take it up, and carry it away. This I speak not of my knowledge, but what is here reported to be true; and it may be very probable, because the hill is steep and uneven, and the heart not thrown as usually, but from the point of a long spear. Then did this gentlewoman and myself go to the sheriff, and beg his body, the which, he freely gave unto us. Now did the devil roar, and his instruments, the blinded Dorcestrians, (whom, with my soul, I deplored,) did fret and chafe; and told the sheriff, that he could not dispose of his quarters to papists, neither should we have them. And truly, I believe, that if we should have offered to carry them away, they would have thrown the body and us, into the fire, for our number was but small, and they many thousands. Their fury did so rage against us, that we were forced to withdraw ourselves: and had not I procured the master keeper's wife to have gone back with us to the town, they had stoned us, or done us worse harm, as I was told by many credible people: so great is their malice to catholics. God in his mercy pardon and convert them. From the town we sent

a shroud by a protestant woman, to wrap his happy quarters in; whom, it seems, God did send to us on purpose to do this last office unto his servant, for to us all she was a stranger, and lives twelve miles from the town. And when she heard us mourn that not any of us durst appear, she, with a courage went and saw his quarters put into the shroud, and buried them near to the gallows, although she suffered many affronts from the ungodly multitude; who, from ten o'clock in the morning, till four in the afternoon, stayed on the hill, and sported themselves at football with his head, and put sticks in his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth, and then they buried it near to the body, for they durst not set it upon their gate, because the last before, which was long since martyred amongst them, "Mr. John Cornelius Mohun, anno domini, 1594," they set up his head upon their town gate, and presently there ensued a plague, which cost most of them their lives; so that still they fear, yet will not amend; God hold his merciful hand over them, or else I fear a severe judgment will befal them for this their last inhuman cruelty. I wish the contrary, and heartily pray that we may all partake of the prayers and sufferings of this our glorious martyr, whose magnanimity and patience were to me both admirable and profitable. And well did one minister say, who was present at his death, amongst forty more of his coat, that if many such men should die, and be suffered to speak as he did, they should soon shut up their books. This is credible, although for some respects the man is not named. Sir, this briefly is what I conceived myself obliged to signify unto you concerning this subject, not doubting but you will conceive the same comfort in reading it, as I did in writing the same unto you, who am, sir, &c.

E. WILLOUGHBY.'

This same account was not long after published in print by Chifletius, in his Palma Cleri Anglicani, and the substance of it is found in the Douay diary, 1642. Mr. Green suffered at Dorchester, on Friday, the 19th of August, 1642, in the fifty-seventh year of his age.

THOMAS BULLAKER, PRIEST, O. S. F.*

THOMAS BULLAKER, called in religion, father John Baptist, was born at Chichester, in Sussex, about the year 1604, of pious and catholic parents. His father was a noted physician, who brought up his son in the fear of God, and gave him a liberal education. At the age of eighteen he went over to the college of St. Omer's under the care of the fathers of the society; and from thence, after a short stay, he was, with divers others, sent to the English seminary of Valladolid, in Spain. He had not been long here before he found a call to the order of St. Francis, which grew daily stronger upon him; but then how to put this call into execution he knew not, being quite a stranger to the religious of

*From F. Angelus, a S. Francisco, in his Certamen Seraphicum, printed anno, 1649. p. 31, &c.

that order, (as they also were to him,) and not so much as knowing the language of the country, and withal, apprehending an opposition from the superiors of his college, were they to know any thing of his inclinations. In this perplexity he had recourse to God, praying night and day, with many tears, and using divers mortifications, such as hairshirts, disciplines, lying on the ground, &c., till. at length, he took courage, and communicated the affair to his confessor, the reverend father Baker, S. J., and he, after examining his vocation, and putting him into a spiritual exercise of ten days, and finding him still more ardently desiring to embrace the austerity, poverty, and humility of the Franciscan institute, approved of his call, and joined with the rector of the college in petitioning for his admission in the celebrated convent of the Spanish recollects at Abrojo, at six miles distance from Valladolid. The petition was granted, to the great satisfaction of young Mr. Bullaker, now about nineteen years of age, who, upon the receiving of the news, broke out into those words of the royal prophet, Lætatus sum in his quæ dicta sunt mihi, in domum domini ibimus, Psal. cxxi.

He passed his noviceship, and made his religious profession in the convent of Abrojo, and then was sent by his superiors to another convent of the order, to study philosophy; and from thence to Valladolid to study divinity, which he began there, but finished at Segobia. And now being made priest, the Spanish province of the recollects of the immaculate conception, (in which he was professed,) being about to send missioners to labour in the West Indies, he petitioned to be of the number, but his provincial would not consent to that proposal, but told him his own native country, England, had a better title to his labours, and stood as much in need of them, as the Indies could do. Father Bullaker acquiesced, and willingly embraced the will of God, notified to him by his superior, and having received proper license and mission, and prepared himself by an extraordinary recollection and retreat of ten days, he set out upon his journey, which he made on foot, (in a secular habit, which he had begged,) through a great part of Spain and France, in the midst of many dangers and difficulties, till he came to Bordeaux. Here he took shipping in an English vessel, and landed safe at Plymouth.

He was scarce come to his inn, when he was apprehended upon the information of the master of the ship, and brought before the mayor of Plymouth; and after examination, committed to a filthy jail in that town, where he suffered all kinds of extremities for eight days, having no other bed but the bare ground, it being the winter season, and very severe. From Plymouth he was sent to the county jail at Exeter, where he was put amongst the felons, and not much better accommodated than he had been at Plymouth; only he received some small charities, from the few catholics that were in that neighbourhood. In this prison he remained till the lenten assizes, when he was brought to the bar, in order to be tried; but no sufficient evidence appearing against him, his trial was put off. In the mean time, some friends having interested themselves in his favour at court, he was sent for up to London, and discharged. But what he had suffered in his impri

sonment brought a violent fever upon him; from which he recovered indeed, yet so that he was never after a healthy man to his dying day.

Being recovered, he was sent by his superior into the country, where he laboured with great zeal and fruit, for about eleven years, till hearing of the martyrdom of Mr. Ward, he was inflamed with a vehement desire of glorifying his master by the like death; which desire of his, was increased by the news of the condemnation of the seven priests in the latter end of the same year. Upon this, he quits his residence in the country, and with the leave of his superior, dedicates himself to the laborious employment of assisting the poor, the sick, and the imprisoned in London; in hopes of more readily meeting with martyrdom there he takes a lodging for this purpose in the city, which was soon after visited by the pursuivants, coming to search for a priest. What does he do upon this occasion? Instead of hiding himself, he goes up to the men, and boldly asks them, Am I the priest you search for? They answer, no. Why, says he, there is no other here. However, they said no more to him, but went their way; and though they returned again upon the same errand the next day, and found his chamber open, where he was sitting at dinner, in their sight, and his breviary was lying hard by on a table; yet they took no notice of him, nor so much as offered to come within his room; which gave him no small uneasinsss; but his time was not yet come. What follows with regard to his apprehension, examinations, and trial, is an abstract of a manuscript relation, written by himself, at the request of a reverend priest, a little before his death, published in the Certamen Seraphicum, p. 47, &c.

On Sunday, being the 11th of September, 1642, it pleased Almighty God to assuage my sorrows, by giving me good hopes that he had vouchsafed at length to hear my unworthy prayers, and would speedily grant my petition. For this morning. in my devotions, immediately before mass, having repeated again my former prayer, with as much earnestness as I could, that God in his infinite goodness would grant me, though most unworthy, the favour of laying down my life for his sake; and having said, as usual, the litanies of the blessed virgin, and begun mass; when I was come to the hymn, Gloria in excelsis, the apostate Wadsworth, coming into the room, seized me at the altar. I offered to take off my vestments; but he opposed it, saying he would have me, vested as I was, before the sheriff of London. I urged the inconveniences that might follow to himself as well as to me, from the mob, if he conducted me through the streets in that dress. Upon this remonstrance, he consented that I should pull off my vestments, which he immediately seized, together with the books, beads, pictures, &c., and my silver oil box; and then carried me, together with the lady of the house, before the sheriff.

The sheriff asked me, if I was a priest? I told him, I was. Then, said he, how durst you presume to return into England, in contempt of the laws, which prohibit priests returning hither, under the severest penalties? I answered, because I was convinced that those laws were unjust, and therefore not to be regarded. I added, that I believed if they went on, as they had begun, they would soon make it high treason