come for him; whereat the blessed man, as if he had listened for the glad tidings, made answer himself, with a cheerful voice, saying, Yes, I am ready. And within a short time after, another of the keepers came for him, and told him, he must go a little about by the leads, because though he had favour shown him not to be lodged, after his condemnation, in the common dungeon, yet now that he was to go to execution, he must pass the ordinary way through the common jail to the sledge.

The holy man obeyed readily, following the keeper, as if he had been his good angel; and when he came up to the leads, was stayed there a pretty while, because the rest of the prisoners that were to suffer as malefactors the same day, were in the chapel, through which he was to pass, receiving their communion, as the custom is: the martyr being told as much, smiled, and passing through the chapel, said, Is this their chapel? And here the keeper, whose name was Meares, was to deliver him to another keeper, called Snelling, whose office it was to carry the prisoner down to the sledge. And this Meares, taking his leave of the holy man, said to him, Sir, I hope we shall one day meet in heaven : whereunto the good man answered, No, in truth shall we not, unless you become a catholic, and this truth I am now ready to seal with my blood.

After this, he encountered with a woman, prisoner in that place, whom he understood to be allied to Sir Philip Knevet: her, he exhorted to become a catholic, and to lead a virtuous life, using many effectual speeches to that purpose.

'It was now about eight o'clock in the morning, when the holy mar tyr being laid on his back upon the sledge, was drawn from the prison, by four horses, to Tyburn? but as he passed up Holborn, he cast a special eye upon such houses as he had acquaintance in, and with a cheerful countenance, as well as he could, his hands being pinioned, he gave them his benediction.

'As he was going to execution, a penitent of his went by him bitterly weeping; to whom the martyr spoke, saying, Why weep you, child? The party answered, for you, sir: when instantly the martyr said, Weep not for my death, for I can yet live if I please; but it is my joy to die for this cause, and, therefore, you have no reason to weep.

And to another he said, with signs of great joy, that he was infinitely happy to be able to lay down that life voluntarily now, which, by course of nature, he could not hope to keep one month longer.

Of his Comportment at Tyburn.-When he came to the place of execution, the sheriff of Middlesex, whose office is to attend in such cases, spake unto the holy man, asking him if he had any thing to say before he died? Whereupon he answered immediately, that he had to declare to all the world the cause of his death, which was purely the point of religion; for he was innocent of any crime that could deserve death: moreover, he said, Mr. Sheriff, I give you and all this company to understand, that whereas I am condemned, and brought hither to die for being a Romish priest; even that hath not been proved against me; so I have received hard usage in this sentence; nevertheless, I shall here do you, and all those that had a hand in my death, this right at

least, to declare that which was never proved, viz.: that I am a Romish priest, and have been so about forty years, God be praised for it. And since I am condemned for being such, Mr. Sheriff, I here make profession to all those that are here present, that I do not only die willingly for this cause, but think myself infinitely happy, and honoured highly therein, since it is to die for my Lord and Master, Jesus Christ. Here the sheriff asked him, of what religious order he was? who answered, I am of the apostles' order, I give God thanks for it; and I do rejoice to receive that superabundant reward of my poor labours, which the holy apostles of our blessed Saviour received of theirs, though mine have been far inferior and less than theirs were. Hereunto the sheriff replied, saying, You die, not for point of religion, but for seducing the king's liege subjects. To this, the holy martyr. answered, he had seduced none, but reduced or converted many, the which he was glad of, and did wish he could not only have converted more, but even all England; because there was no other saving faith than that of the Roman catholic church; and as for this faith, I die, myself, most willingly, so I say unto you all, that will hope for salvation, you must die in the same faith at least, if not for it. The sheriff seeing the good Eleazar so stout in this point, was willing to divert him from it, and asked him what his true name was, whether it were Ward, or not; and whether he was any thing allied to the bishop of Gloucester? To which he answered, that his true name was not Ward, but William Webster; and for the bishop, he was not allied to him, and so fell upon the profession of his faith again, saying, Mr. Sheriff, I have no relation to that bishop, but have ever professed this religion which I now die for; and if I had a thousand lives, I should most willingly lose them all for the same cause. Here the sheriff, being willing that he should do any thing, rather than inculcate so much to the people the profession of the Roman faith, interrupted him again, and said, Mr. Webster, have you any prayers to say? The blessed man told him, I have said my prayers already: but this sufficed not the sheriff, who fearing he would fall upon the former subject, asked him the second time, have you any more prayers to say? To this, the saint answered, yes, Mr. Sheriff, and if it please you to give me leave I shall say them; when instantly he fell upon his knees, and made a quarter of an hour's silent prayer with a grave, composed countenance; and when the sheriff saw the good man stir, either supposing he had done his prayers, or not being willing to give him any longer time, he said unto him, with a loud voice, Mr. Webster, have you any thing else now to say? To which demand, the martyr answered, Yes, Mr. Sheriff, I have this to say more, that I pray heartily to God to bless the king and queen, the royal issue, and state, and all the people of this realm; and, Mr. Sheriff, I would bequeath some small tokens ere I-die, amongst poor catholics; but I can see none of them here. With that, the people cried out, give it to the hangman that he may favour you; at which, the saint smiled, saying, Alas! alas! he favour ine! see.the fire and faggots, the halter and the gallows, what favour can he do me? Nor do I desire to lose the merit of suffering in this cause; which said, he gave unto the sheriff forty shillings, beseeching him to distribute that

small sum of money amongst the poorer sort of catholics, the saint himself, giving to the hangman two shillings and sixpence, which is, said he, For thy good office thou art to do me; and looking about him a little, he espied the carman who had driven the hurdle to the gallows, and gave him two shillings, which is, said he, For thy pains too, though thou be no catholic; this done, he threw an inkhorn, and handkerchief, and some other things left in his pocket, amongst the people; and then immediately composed himself to die, recommending his soul to his blessed Saviour, and crying out in these word, Jesu, Jesu, Jesu, receive my soul, he ended this life. He hung till he was dead, because they stript him hanging, then cut him down, dragged him by the heels, on his back to the fire, there dismembered and beheaded him, ript up his belly, plucked out his heart and his bowels, and cast them into the fire, &c., setting up his head and quarters upon several gates and places of the city; but by God's special providence, the heart of this glorious martyr was preserved from the fire, by reason it slid down upon the edge of a sloping stick, and so fell into the embers, where it was rather covered than consumed, and by this accident, was found.

'A person of great quality, Count Egmond by name, hearing by a servant of his, who was present at the action, that an holy priest had suffered martyrdom that morning, "being the 26th of July, 1641, asked his servant, if he had brought any relic of the martyr away with him; who told him yes, and gave him, (as he said,) the very handkerchief which the saint had cast out of his pocket. The count, taking it with reverence, kissed it; but finding no blood upon the same, gave the servant his own handkerchief, commanding him to run back instantly to the place of execution, and to dip that in some of the martyr's blood, if he could find any. The servant posting away, came back to the gallows, made diligent search for some of the blood, but finding it was all scraped up by the zeal of other pious catholics, who had been before him, takes his stick, and rubbing up the ashes where the bowels of the martyr had been burnt, finds a lump of flesh all parched and singed by the fiery embers, wherein it lay covered, and hastily wrapped up what he had found, in the handkerchief, which his lord had given him, not having time to shake off the fiery coals or hot ashes, by reason that some malicious persons who stood by, and saw this fellow stooping, and taking somewhat out of the fire, demanded of him what he took thence; The man nimbly slipped over a park pale, and run from them, who would have laid hands on him; whereupon, divers horsemen passing that way, and hearing a great number of foot cry stop, stop, stop, (as the ill custom of our nation is, every man making himself an officer, and hangman, rather than fail,) out of officious curiosity in such cases, rode hard round the park pale, hoping at the next gate to encounter with this poor man, who was pursued by a clamorous and still increasing company of footmen, who continually kept sight of him. The man perceiving himself so beset on all sides, and pursued, resolved not to lose the relic, whatever became of himself, dropped it as he ran, in a bush, and took special mark upon the bush with his eye, where he left it, resolving to come another time and fetch what now he could not safely carry any farther; and this he did with such dexterity, making no stop at all, but

feigning a small trip or stumble, and yet seeming suddenly to recover himself, ran on, drawing his pursuers after him, to delude them, and thereby to save the relic. In brief, this poor man recovered the skirts of the town ere he was overtaken, and there being apprehended, was carried before officers, yet by the power of his lord was fetched off, upon security given that he should be forthcoming; and so went early next morning to the place where he had dropped the relic, and found it in the handkerchief which he had wrapped it in, and in the same place where he had left it; in which circumstance it is remarkable, that the handkerchief was not burnt by any of the fiery coals or hot ashes which might hang upon the flesh when he took it out of the fire; and bringing this home to his lord, upon diligent search what it should be, they found, by incision, it was the very heart of the holy martyr, and it remained fifteen days untainted; after which time, the count, who keeps it as his greatest jewel, caused it to be embalmed; not that he did it to preserve it from corruption, which it seemed no way to incline to, but for reverence and religion to so rich a relic: Quia pretiosa in conspectu Domini mors sanctorum ejus.

And it may serve for an example to all good christians, that their special devotions and duties to their particular patrons, are exercises not only pleasing to God and his saints, but infinitely profitable to souls; for whereas this man of God was ever singularly devoted to St. Ann, the mother of the blessed virgin Mary, keeping her feast every year, with more than ordinary solemnity, and this commonly in the houses of some of his penitents, virtuous women, who bore that name: see the high reward he received of this his devotion, that Almighty God bestowed the crown of martyrdom upon him on the feast of St. Ann, the 26th of July, 1641! as if that blessed saint had been ambitious to wait upon God's martyr, and put the triumphant crown upon his head with her own hands, who had so devoutly, and so constantly, for many years together, on this, her festival day, solemnized her praises.' far the manuscript.

EDWARD BARLOW, PRIEST, O. S. B.*

EDWARD BARLOW, called in religion father Ambrose, was born at Manchester, in 1585, of pious and catholic parents, of the ancient family of Barlow of Barlow. His father was that constant confessor of Christ, Alexander Barlow, Esq., who made it his care to give this his son, a catholic and liberal education. By these means his tender mind which had already a happy sweetness of temper, and an inclination to piety and learning, was improved, and strongly established in the true faith and the love of God. When he was twelve years old he was taken from school to be page to a relation, a person of quality. But as

* From two manuscript relations, kept by the English benedictines at Douay, one of them being a letter of his brother, F. Rudesind Barlow, to the abbot and monks of Cellanova, dated January 1, 1642.

he grew up, and considered the emptiness and vanity of the transitory toys of this life, and the greatness of things eternal, he took a resolution to withdraw himself from the world, and to go abroad, in order to procure those helps of virtue and learning, which might qualify him for the priesthood, and enable him to be of some assistance to his native country.

The place he made choice of for his studies was the university of Douay, which had been recommended to him by fame, and by the testimony of many learned and pious priests who studied there. Here, meeting with two other young gentlemen of equal age, and of the same inclinations, he chose them for his chamber fellows, and with them frequented the humanity schools at Anchin college, under the fathers of the society, as the alumni of the English seminary all did during Dr. Worthington's presidency. When he had finished his humanity, he was sent by the aforesaid Dr. Worthington, "August 23, 1610," from the English college of Douay to that of Valladolid; where he went through his course of philosophy, and part of his divinity for before he had finished the latter, he followed his brother, Dr. Rudesind Barlow, to Douay, where he received the habit of St. Bennet; and after making his noviceship at a house then belonging to the English congregation, near St. Malo, in Little Brittany, he was professed at Douay, in 1615. And being now thirty years old, and otherwise well qualified by virtue and learning for the apostolic calling, he was presented by his superiors, not long after his profession, to the holy order of priesthood, and sent upon the English mission, to which he found himself strongly invited by an inward call.

***

The seat of his missionary labours was his native country of Lancashire, "where, says Mr. Knaresborough, his memory is held in great esteem to this day, by the catholics of that county, for his great zeal in the conversion of souls, and the exemplary piety of his life and conversation." "Tis scarce to be expressed what wonderful blessings the Almighty gave to the labours of this his faithful servant, who made it his constant business to join the care of his own soul with that of his flock, and to preach full as much by example as by words. Such was the fervour of his zeal, that, as my author says, he thought the day lost, in which he had not done some notable thing for the salvation of souls. Night and day he was ever ready to lay hold of all occasions of reclaiming any one from error; and whatever time he could spare from his devotions, he employed in seeking after the lost sheep, and in exhorting, instructing, and correcting sinners; and omitted no opportunity of preaching the word of God. But then he never neglected the care of his own sanctification: he celebrated mass, and recited the office with great reverence and devotion; had his fixed hours for mental prayer, which he never omitted; and found so much pleasure in this inward conversation with God, (from which he received that constant supply of heavenly light and strength,) that when the time came on, which he had devoted