Four or five years ago, whilst making some researches in the State Paper Office relating to the time of Charles I., I met with a short succession of Letters from a person of the name of Nehemiah Wharton, addressed to his then late master and honoured friend Mr. George Willingham, merchant, at the Golden Anchor in St. Swithin's Lane. A few of these Letters, which I then, and some which I have since transcribed, I now lay before your Lordship and our Society. They form a graphic illustration of the historical incidents of Butler's celebrated poem, and detail the more than wretched condition under which our country suffered throughout the confused period of the Great Rebellion, wherever the rival forces came, whether to plunder or to protect the unfortunate inhabitants. Another feature in these Letters is the strange and ceaseless union of outrage with religion. Atrocities of the worst kind were constantly followed by “a famous,” “a worthy,” “a godly,” or “a heavenly sermon,” preached by one or other of the spiritual trumpeters of the time, who inflamed the population. After pillaging Sir Robert Fisher's house, near Coventry, on the next day, the soldiers “kept the Fast and heard two Sermons.” Before the third was ended they had an alarm to march.