oving and meek
a manner, that the gentleman did so fall in love with him, and his
discourse, that he would often contrive to meet him in his walk to
Salisbury, or to attend him back to Bemerton; and still mentions the
name of Mr. George Herbert with veneration, and still praiseth God for
the occasion of knowing him.

[Sidenote: The cure for indifference]

In another of his Salisbury walks, he met with a neighbour Minister;
and after some friendly discourse betwixt them, and some condolement
for the decay of piety, and too general contempt of the Clergy, Mr.
Herbert took occasion to say,

"One cure for these distempers would be, for the Clergy themselves to
keep the Ember-weeks strictly, and beg of their parishioners to join
with them in fasting and prayers for a more religious Clergy.

"And another cure would be, for themselves to restore the great and
neglected duty of Catechising, on which the Salvation of so many of
the poor and ignorant lay-people does depend; but principally, that
the Clergy themselves would be sure to live unblameably; and that
the dignified Clergy especially which preach temperance, would avoid
surfeiting and take all occasions to express a visible humility and
charity in their lives; for this would force a love and an imitation,
and an unfeigned reverence from all that knew them to be such." (And
for proof of this, we need no other testimony than the life and death
of Dr. Lake,[24] late Lord Bishop of Bath and Wells.) "This," said Mr.
Herbert, "would be a cure for the wickedness and growing Atheism of
our age. And, my dear brother, till this be done by us, and done in
earnest, let no man expect a reformation of the manners of the Laity;
for 'tis not learning, but this, this only that must do it; and, till
then, the fault must lie at our doors."

[Sidenote: The Good Samaritan]

In another walk to Salisbury, he saw a poor man with a poorer horse,
that was fallen under his load: they were both in distress, and needed
present help; which Mr. Herbert perceiving, put off his canonical
coat, and helped the poor man to unload, and after to load, his horse.
The poor man blessed him for it, and he blessed the poor man; and was
so like the Good Samaritan, that he gave him money to refresh both
himself and his horse; and told him, "That if he loved himself he
should be merciful to his beast." Thus he left the poor man: and at
his coming to his musical friends at Salisbury, they began to wonder
that