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Discussion Starter · #1 ·
Moxon, Nicholas Owen, and the Gunpowder Plot

Here's another one from the archive, but here's a better link with pictures (i try not to read anything that doesn't have pictures!)
Every once in a while, i look for tenuous links between my research on Early Modern England and traditional woodworking. Naturally, i was so stoked to see Christopher Schwarz's work on Moxon, as well as his edition of the section on joinery. Other bloggers have written about Moxon, and Schwarz seems to have have ignited the woodworking world with enthusiasm for craftsmanship in early modern England. Seriously-by no means an easy or common achievement. Let me back up here. For those of you used to scouring EEBO, Moxon should be a familiar name in his capacity as a printer. Ring any bells? How about the Royal society? He was the first tradesmen to be allowed membership (in 1678).

Recently, i came across this cool book. It's quite helpful in understanding the religious environment in early modern England. I'm not up to the Gunpowder Plot yet. Elizabeth has just died, and so have many, many, English Jesuit priests who came over from their seminary in Spain to save English Catholic souls. Pretty sad. But, there is a pretty cool angle that Hogge goes into (thankfully, with photos!), and that is the hiding places for the priests. It's pretty mind-boggling that the deadly cat-and-mouse game between the pursuivants and the Jesuits, in fact the outcome of the religious power struggle in early modern England (perhaps one of the most important historical turning points) was heavily dependent on a dude called Nicholas Owen, a joiner from Oxford.

He was instrumental in creating 'priest holes' in country homes of wealthy Catholics. These were so good, they couldn't be detected by knocking on walls, etc. Father Henry Garnet (head of the Jesuit mission) employed Owen, who was so dedicated to his craft and its importance, that even servants of the households had no idea where the hiding places were! In fact, Hogge provides photographs of a priest hole that was discovered accidentally in 1879 by boys who were playing in a derelict country home. Who knows how many more priest holes the masterful and discreet Owen created which have yet to be uncovered?! Not a job i would mind having!

Sadly, Owen was captured and tortured, and like many other Jesuits, this layman gave no information before dying on the rack. In 1970, Owen was canonised as one of the 40 Martyrs of England and Wales, and his feast day is actually a week from today-16th of March. {Confusingly, it's also listed as the 25th of October (i guess it's a communal feast day for the other 39), and 2nd of March (the day he died).} Well, whenever it is, to students of early modern England and traditional woodworking, happy (bittersweet?) St. Owen's day…
 

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Moxon, Nicholas Owen, and the Gunpowder Plot

Here's another one from the archive, but here's a better link with pictures (i try not to read anything that doesn't have pictures!)
Every once in a while, i look for tenuous links between my research on Early Modern England and traditional woodworking. Naturally, i was so stoked to see Christopher Schwarz's work on Moxon, as well as his edition of the section on joinery. Other bloggers have written about Moxon, and Schwarz seems to have have ignited the woodworking world with enthusiasm for craftsmanship in early modern England. Seriously-by no means an easy or common achievement. Let me back up here. For those of you used to scouring EEBO, Moxon should be a familiar name in his capacity as a printer. Ring any bells? How about the Royal society? He was the first tradesmen to be allowed membership (in 1678).

Recently, i came across this cool book. It's quite helpful in understanding the religious environment in early modern England. I'm not up to the Gunpowder Plot yet. Elizabeth has just died, and so have many, many, English Jesuit priests who came over from their seminary in Spain to save English Catholic souls. Pretty sad. But, there is a pretty cool angle that Hogge goes into (thankfully, with photos!), and that is the hiding places for the priests. It's pretty mind-boggling that the deadly cat-and-mouse game between the pursuivants and the Jesuits, in fact the outcome of the religious power struggle in early modern England (perhaps one of the most important historical turning points) was heavily dependent on a dude called Nicholas Owen, a joiner from Oxford.

He was instrumental in creating 'priest holes' in country homes of wealthy Catholics. These were so good, they couldn't be detected by knocking on walls, etc. Father Henry Garnet (head of the Jesuit mission) employed Owen, who was so dedicated to his craft and its importance, that even servants of the households had no idea where the hiding places were! In fact, Hogge provides photographs of a priest hole that was discovered accidentally in 1879 by boys who were playing in a derelict country home. Who knows how many more priest holes the masterful and discreet Owen created which have yet to be uncovered?! Not a job i would mind having!

Sadly, Owen was captured and tortured, and like many other Jesuits, this layman gave no information before dying on the rack. In 1970, Owen was canonised as one of the 40 Martyrs of England and Wales, and his feast day is actually a week from today-16th of March. {Confusingly, it's also listed as the 25th of October (i guess it's a communal feast day for the other 39), and 2nd of March (the day he died).} Well, whenever it is, to students of early modern England and traditional woodworking, happy (bittersweet?) St. Owen's day…
another great history reminder
 

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Discussion Starter · #3 ·
Moxon, Nicholas Owen, and the Gunpowder Plot

Here's another one from the archive, but here's a better link with pictures (i try not to read anything that doesn't have pictures!)
Every once in a while, i look for tenuous links between my research on Early Modern England and traditional woodworking. Naturally, i was so stoked to see Christopher Schwarz's work on Moxon, as well as his edition of the section on joinery. Other bloggers have written about Moxon, and Schwarz seems to have have ignited the woodworking world with enthusiasm for craftsmanship in early modern England. Seriously-by no means an easy or common achievement. Let me back up here. For those of you used to scouring EEBO, Moxon should be a familiar name in his capacity as a printer. Ring any bells? How about the Royal society? He was the first tradesmen to be allowed membership (in 1678).

Recently, i came across this cool book. It's quite helpful in understanding the religious environment in early modern England. I'm not up to the Gunpowder Plot yet. Elizabeth has just died, and so have many, many, English Jesuit priests who came over from their seminary in Spain to save English Catholic souls. Pretty sad. But, there is a pretty cool angle that Hogge goes into (thankfully, with photos!), and that is the hiding places for the priests. It's pretty mind-boggling that the deadly cat-and-mouse game between the pursuivants and the Jesuits, in fact the outcome of the religious power struggle in early modern England (perhaps one of the most important historical turning points) was heavily dependent on a dude called Nicholas Owen, a joiner from Oxford.

He was instrumental in creating 'priest holes' in country homes of wealthy Catholics. These were so good, they couldn't be detected by knocking on walls, etc. Father Henry Garnet (head of the Jesuit mission) employed Owen, who was so dedicated to his craft and its importance, that even servants of the households had no idea where the hiding places were! In fact, Hogge provides photographs of a priest hole that was discovered accidentally in 1879 by boys who were playing in a derelict country home. Who knows how many more priest holes the masterful and discreet Owen created which have yet to be uncovered?! Not a job i would mind having!

Sadly, Owen was captured and tortured, and like many other Jesuits, this layman gave no information before dying on the rack. In 1970, Owen was canonised as one of the 40 Martyrs of England and Wales, and his feast day is actually a week from today-16th of March. {Confusingly, it's also listed as the 25th of October (i guess it's a communal feast day for the other 39), and 2nd of March (the day he died).} Well, whenever it is, to students of early modern England and traditional woodworking, happy (bittersweet?) St. Owen's day…
;-)
 

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Moxon, Nicholas Owen, and the Gunpowder Plot

Here's another one from the archive, but here's a better link with pictures (i try not to read anything that doesn't have pictures!)
Every once in a while, i look for tenuous links between my research on Early Modern England and traditional woodworking. Naturally, i was so stoked to see Christopher Schwarz's work on Moxon, as well as his edition of the section on joinery. Other bloggers have written about Moxon, and Schwarz seems to have have ignited the woodworking world with enthusiasm for craftsmanship in early modern England. Seriously-by no means an easy or common achievement. Let me back up here. For those of you used to scouring EEBO, Moxon should be a familiar name in his capacity as a printer. Ring any bells? How about the Royal society? He was the first tradesmen to be allowed membership (in 1678).

Recently, i came across this cool book. It's quite helpful in understanding the religious environment in early modern England. I'm not up to the Gunpowder Plot yet. Elizabeth has just died, and so have many, many, English Jesuit priests who came over from their seminary in Spain to save English Catholic souls. Pretty sad. But, there is a pretty cool angle that Hogge goes into (thankfully, with photos!), and that is the hiding places for the priests. It's pretty mind-boggling that the deadly cat-and-mouse game between the pursuivants and the Jesuits, in fact the outcome of the religious power struggle in early modern England (perhaps one of the most important historical turning points) was heavily dependent on a dude called Nicholas Owen, a joiner from Oxford.

He was instrumental in creating 'priest holes' in country homes of wealthy Catholics. These were so good, they couldn't be detected by knocking on walls, etc. Father Henry Garnet (head of the Jesuit mission) employed Owen, who was so dedicated to his craft and its importance, that even servants of the households had no idea where the hiding places were! In fact, Hogge provides photographs of a priest hole that was discovered accidentally in 1879 by boys who were playing in a derelict country home. Who knows how many more priest holes the masterful and discreet Owen created which have yet to be uncovered?! Not a job i would mind having!

Sadly, Owen was captured and tortured, and like many other Jesuits, this layman gave no information before dying on the rack. In 1970, Owen was canonised as one of the 40 Martyrs of England and Wales, and his feast day is actually a week from today-16th of March. {Confusingly, it's also listed as the 25th of October (i guess it's a communal feast day for the other 39), and 2nd of March (the day he died).} Well, whenever it is, to students of early modern England and traditional woodworking, happy (bittersweet?) St. Owen's day…
Thanks Naomi. That's a book I shall look out for.
 

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Discussion Starter · #5 ·
A DIY Shoutout to My Pepys (Yeah, it's Pronounced 'Peeps')


Once again, thanks to Cardinal Wolsey's Today in History and Phil Gyford's excellent online version of Samuel Pepys's diary, the worlds of woodworking and early modern England come together. Hold on to your buckled hats! The grumpy guy you see here is Samuel Pepys, (1633-1703) the famous diarist. He was known for writing about the Great Fire in London, and for writing about his sexpcapades (ewe) in code so his wife could never bust him. If you're curious (and i don't blame you-he's got beautiful Vidal Sassoon [from the 80s!] hair) click here.
Anyway, here is Pepys' disastrous attempt at DIY:

Wednesday 7 February 1665/66

It being fast day I staid at home all day long to set things to rights in my chamber by taking out all my books, and putting my chamber in the same condition it was before the plague. But in the morning doing of it, and knocking up a nail I did bruise my left thumb so as broke a great deal of my flesh off, that it hung by a little. It was a sight frighted my wife, but I put some balsam of Mrs. Turner's to it, and though in great pain, yet went on with my business, and did it to my full content, setting every thing in order, in hopes now that the worst of our fears are over as to the plague for the next year. Interrupted I was by two or three occasions this day to my great vexation, having this the only day I have been able to set apart for this work since my coming to town. At night to supper, weary, and to bed, having had the plasterers and joiners also to do some jobbs.
 

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A DIY Shoutout to My Pepys (Yeah, it's Pronounced 'Peeps')


Once again, thanks to Cardinal Wolsey's Today in History and Phil Gyford's excellent online version of Samuel Pepys's diary, the worlds of woodworking and early modern England come together. Hold on to your buckled hats! The grumpy guy you see here is Samuel Pepys, (1633-1703) the famous diarist. He was known for writing about the Great Fire in London, and for writing about his sexpcapades (ewe) in code so his wife could never bust him. If you're curious (and i don't blame you-he's got beautiful Vidal Sassoon [from the 80s!] hair) click here.
Anyway, here is Pepys' disastrous attempt at DIY:

Wednesday 7 February 1665/66

It being fast day I staid at home all day long to set things to rights in my chamber by taking out all my books, and putting my chamber in the same condition it was before the plague. But in the morning doing of it, and knocking up a nail I did bruise my left thumb so as broke a great deal of my flesh off, that it hung by a little. It was a sight frighted my wife, but I put some balsam of Mrs. Turner's to it, and though in great pain, yet went on with my business, and did it to my full content, setting every thing in order, in hopes now that the worst of our fears are over as to the plague for the next year. Interrupted I was by two or three occasions this day to my great vexation, having this the only day I have been able to set apart for this work since my coming to town. At night to supper, weary, and to bed, having had the plasterers and joiners also to do some jobbs.
Interesting
 

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A DIY Shoutout to My Pepys (Yeah, it's Pronounced 'Peeps')


Once again, thanks to Cardinal Wolsey's Today in History and Phil Gyford's excellent online version of Samuel Pepys's diary, the worlds of woodworking and early modern England come together. Hold on to your buckled hats! The grumpy guy you see here is Samuel Pepys, (1633-1703) the famous diarist. He was known for writing about the Great Fire in London, and for writing about his sexpcapades (ewe) in code so his wife could never bust him. If you're curious (and i don't blame you-he's got beautiful Vidal Sassoon [from the 80s!] hair) click here.
Anyway, here is Pepys' disastrous attempt at DIY:

Wednesday 7 February 1665/66

It being fast day I staid at home all day long to set things to rights in my chamber by taking out all my books, and putting my chamber in the same condition it was before the plague. But in the morning doing of it, and knocking up a nail I did bruise my left thumb so as broke a great deal of my flesh off, that it hung by a little. It was a sight frighted my wife, but I put some balsam of Mrs. Turner's to it, and though in great pain, yet went on with my business, and did it to my full content, setting every thing in order, in hopes now that the worst of our fears are over as to the plague for the next year. Interrupted I was by two or three occasions this day to my great vexation, having this the only day I have been able to set apart for this work since my coming to town. At night to supper, weary, and to bed, having had the plasterers and joiners also to do some jobbs.
You just gotta wonder what, pray tell, did he do that made him so weary?
 

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A DIY Shoutout to My Pepys (Yeah, it's Pronounced 'Peeps')


Once again, thanks to Cardinal Wolsey's Today in History and Phil Gyford's excellent online version of Samuel Pepys's diary, the worlds of woodworking and early modern England come together. Hold on to your buckled hats! The grumpy guy you see here is Samuel Pepys, (1633-1703) the famous diarist. He was known for writing about the Great Fire in London, and for writing about his sexpcapades (ewe) in code so his wife could never bust him. If you're curious (and i don't blame you-he's got beautiful Vidal Sassoon [from the 80s!] hair) click here.
Anyway, here is Pepys' disastrous attempt at DIY:

Wednesday 7 February 1665/66

It being fast day I staid at home all day long to set things to rights in my chamber by taking out all my books, and putting my chamber in the same condition it was before the plague. But in the morning doing of it, and knocking up a nail I did bruise my left thumb so as broke a great deal of my flesh off, that it hung by a little. It was a sight frighted my wife, but I put some balsam of Mrs. Turner's to it, and though in great pain, yet went on with my business, and did it to my full content, setting every thing in order, in hopes now that the worst of our fears are over as to the plague for the next year. Interrupted I was by two or three occasions this day to my great vexation, having this the only day I have been able to set apart for this work since my coming to town. At night to supper, weary, and to bed, having had the plasterers and joiners also to do some jobbs.
some things never change, just today I doth walloped my thumb leading to much cursing and verbal discord.
 

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A DIY Shoutout to My Pepys (Yeah, it's Pronounced 'Peeps')


Once again, thanks to Cardinal Wolsey's Today in History and Phil Gyford's excellent online version of Samuel Pepys's diary, the worlds of woodworking and early modern England come together. Hold on to your buckled hats! The grumpy guy you see here is Samuel Pepys, (1633-1703) the famous diarist. He was known for writing about the Great Fire in London, and for writing about his sexpcapades (ewe) in code so his wife could never bust him. If you're curious (and i don't blame you-he's got beautiful Vidal Sassoon [from the 80s!] hair) click here.
Anyway, here is Pepys' disastrous attempt at DIY:

Wednesday 7 February 1665/66

It being fast day I staid at home all day long to set things to rights in my chamber by taking out all my books, and putting my chamber in the same condition it was before the plague. But in the morning doing of it, and knocking up a nail I did bruise my left thumb so as broke a great deal of my flesh off, that it hung by a little. It was a sight frighted my wife, but I put some balsam of Mrs. Turner's to it, and though in great pain, yet went on with my business, and did it to my full content, setting every thing in order, in hopes now that the worst of our fears are over as to the plague for the next year. Interrupted I was by two or three occasions this day to my great vexation, having this the only day I have been able to set apart for this work since my coming to town. At night to supper, weary, and to bed, having had the plasterers and joiners also to do some jobbs.
Did this drivel sell?
 

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Discussion Starter · #10 ·
The Debate of the Carpenter's Tools

This is the famous poem that Chris Schwarz mentioned once; i dug it up and appended whatever notes i could find on it. For the full entry, click here.
 

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Discussion Starter · #11 ·
Nehemiah Wallington (1598-1658)

Taken from the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography

Wallington, turner and diarist, was born on 12 May 1598 in the parish of St Leonard Eastcheap, London, the tenth of twelve children and the fourth son of John Wallington, citizen and turner (1552/3-1638), and his wife, Elizabeth (1562/3-1603), the daughter of Anthony Hall, citizen and skinner, and his wife, Jane. Following the death of Elizabeth, John Wallington married Joan Hinde, a widow with two children, and following her death in 1605 he married, as his third wife, Alice Harrison (d. 1634), also a widow with two children and the mother of Patience, Nehemiah's half-sister.

Wallington was never apprenticed but set up shop as a turner after admission to the Turners' Company, by patrimony, on 18 May 1620. Within a year he had married Grace Rampaigne; she was the sister of Livewell Rampaigne, a minister of Burton and then Broxholme, whose letters of comfort Nehemiah preserved and whose widow, Sarah, and her two children lived with the Wallingtons from 1635 until her death in 1654, and of Zachariah Rampaigne, a planter in Ireland killed during the rising of 1641, whose son Charles was taken in by the Wallingtons and served as Nehemiah's apprentice until his freedom in 1655.

Wallington's freedom as a turner and his marriage followed two years of mental breakdown, during which, doubting of his salvation, he had made a number of suicide attempts, complicated by his desire to protect his father and the puritan community from the disgrace of such an ungodly act, and had first begun to write. His work, initially a record of his sins and God's mercies, was abandoned in 1620 when he began 'A record of God's mercies, or, A thankful remembrance', part diary, part commonplace book, which he continued intermittently well into the 1630s. A combination of work and family responsibilities apparently prevented any further breakdown. Wallington was sustained by the friendship and counsel of Henry Roborough, the young curate and lecturer at St Leonard Eastcheap, by the steady common sense and strength of Grace, and perhaps by the discipline of writing. He also received a loan from the Turners' Company. However, the death of his first child, Elizabeth, in 1625 led to a fresh crisis, during which Wallington confessed that he forgot all his 'purposes, promises and covenants' with God and was inconsolable until reminded by Grace that their daughter had gone 'home to her husband Christ Jesus' ('A record of God's mercies', Guildhall Library, MS 204, p. 409). Their son John died six months after Elizabeth, their second son, Nehemiah, in 1627, and their last child, Samuel, born in 1630, died in October 1632. Only their daughter Sarah, born in 1627, survived to adulthood to marry, on 20 July 1647, a young godly turner, John Houghton.

Unlike his father and his elder brother John, both of whom were liverymen, serving their turn as masters, Wallington never left the yeomanry of the Turners' Company. Although he apparently worked steadily at his craft he had no head for business, as he confessed on more than one occasion, and struggled all his life to find some balance between the demands of his calling as a turner and the more compelling demands of his calling as a Christian. He regularly rose in the small hours of the morning to write before private prayer in his closet and further public prayers with his household. He admitted to spending too much on books, particularly on news-sheets during the 1640s, and had a library of more than 200 works, beginning with William Gouge's Of Domestical Duties, which he purchased soon after his marriage. By 1654, when he compiled a catalogue of his writings, he listed fifty notebooks, ranging from his diary to memorials of God's judgements against sabbath breakers, commonplaces from scripture, and various puritan guides to the godly life, sermon notes, a volume of collected letters, a number of volumes detailing the mercies he had received, and a number of volumes of political news collected during the 1640s. Aside from a book called The Mighty Works of the Lord, which is a Prop to Faith, which he gave to his wife, and a book on patience, which he left to his half-sister Patience, he bequeathed all his notebooks to his son-in-law, John Houghton. He had little else to leave and apparently made no will.

Wallington was in many respects the quintessential puritan, introspective, bookish, sermon-going, scrupulous in his business relations, and constantly struggling for even-tempered acceptance of life and of himself, which he believed should accompany assurance of election. He followed the fortunes of protestantism during the Thirty Years' War and those of parliament during the civil war. Although he served conscientiously as a lay elder in the fourth London classis from 1646 until his last years his Presbyterianism was based on his desire for parish discipline, and his only quarrel with the protectorate was that it did not bring the godly reformation that he had long prayed for. As he wrote in 1655, it was the toleration of 'many strange, false forms of worship', of 'Sabbath profanation', of 'our cruel oppression of the poor', and of 'our impudent pride' that he found profoundly disillusioning and that made him fear in his last years a dreadful punishment of his 'rebellious City' ('A memorial of God's judgments upon sabbath breakers, drunkards and other vile livers', BL, Sloane MS 1457, fols. 99r-101v). Wallington died in Eastcheap in August 1658.

P. S. Seaver

Sources P. S. Seaver, Wallington's world: a puritan artisan in seventeenth-century London (1985) + N. Wallington, Historical notices of events occurring chiefly in the reign of Charles I, ed. R. Webb, 2 vols. (1869) + parish register, St Leonard Eastcheap, GL, MS 17607 + Turners' Company, book of apprentice bindings, GL, MS 3302/1 + Turners' Company, court minutes, 1605-33, GL, MS 3295/1
Archives BL, 'The growth of a Christian', Add. MS 40883 + BL, letter-book, Sloane MS 922 + BL, 'A memorial of God's judgements upon sabbath breakers, drunkards and other vile livers', Sloane MS 1457 + BL, untitled MS, partly published as Historical notices, Add. MS 21935 + Folger, 'Extract of the passages of my life', MS V.a.436 + GL, 'A record of God's mercies, or, A thankful remembrance', MS 204 + Tatton Park, Cheshire, 'A record of mercies continued', MS CR 4-7
 

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Nehemiah Wallington (1598-1658)

Taken from the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography

Wallington, turner and diarist, was born on 12 May 1598 in the parish of St Leonard Eastcheap, London, the tenth of twelve children and the fourth son of John Wallington, citizen and turner (1552/3-1638), and his wife, Elizabeth (1562/3-1603), the daughter of Anthony Hall, citizen and skinner, and his wife, Jane. Following the death of Elizabeth, John Wallington married Joan Hinde, a widow with two children, and following her death in 1605 he married, as his third wife, Alice Harrison (d. 1634), also a widow with two children and the mother of Patience, Nehemiah's half-sister.

Wallington was never apprenticed but set up shop as a turner after admission to the Turners' Company, by patrimony, on 18 May 1620. Within a year he had married Grace Rampaigne; she was the sister of Livewell Rampaigne, a minister of Burton and then Broxholme, whose letters of comfort Nehemiah preserved and whose widow, Sarah, and her two children lived with the Wallingtons from 1635 until her death in 1654, and of Zachariah Rampaigne, a planter in Ireland killed during the rising of 1641, whose son Charles was taken in by the Wallingtons and served as Nehemiah's apprentice until his freedom in 1655.

Wallington's freedom as a turner and his marriage followed two years of mental breakdown, during which, doubting of his salvation, he had made a number of suicide attempts, complicated by his desire to protect his father and the puritan community from the disgrace of such an ungodly act, and had first begun to write. His work, initially a record of his sins and God's mercies, was abandoned in 1620 when he began 'A record of God's mercies, or, A thankful remembrance', part diary, part commonplace book, which he continued intermittently well into the 1630s. A combination of work and family responsibilities apparently prevented any further breakdown. Wallington was sustained by the friendship and counsel of Henry Roborough, the young curate and lecturer at St Leonard Eastcheap, by the steady common sense and strength of Grace, and perhaps by the discipline of writing. He also received a loan from the Turners' Company. However, the death of his first child, Elizabeth, in 1625 led to a fresh crisis, during which Wallington confessed that he forgot all his 'purposes, promises and covenants' with God and was inconsolable until reminded by Grace that their daughter had gone 'home to her husband Christ Jesus' ('A record of God's mercies', Guildhall Library, MS 204, p. 409). Their son John died six months after Elizabeth, their second son, Nehemiah, in 1627, and their last child, Samuel, born in 1630, died in October 1632. Only their daughter Sarah, born in 1627, survived to adulthood to marry, on 20 July 1647, a young godly turner, John Houghton.

Unlike his father and his elder brother John, both of whom were liverymen, serving their turn as masters, Wallington never left the yeomanry of the Turners' Company. Although he apparently worked steadily at his craft he had no head for business, as he confessed on more than one occasion, and struggled all his life to find some balance between the demands of his calling as a turner and the more compelling demands of his calling as a Christian. He regularly rose in the small hours of the morning to write before private prayer in his closet and further public prayers with his household. He admitted to spending too much on books, particularly on news-sheets during the 1640s, and had a library of more than 200 works, beginning with William Gouge's Of Domestical Duties, which he purchased soon after his marriage. By 1654, when he compiled a catalogue of his writings, he listed fifty notebooks, ranging from his diary to memorials of God's judgements against sabbath breakers, commonplaces from scripture, and various puritan guides to the godly life, sermon notes, a volume of collected letters, a number of volumes detailing the mercies he had received, and a number of volumes of political news collected during the 1640s. Aside from a book called The Mighty Works of the Lord, which is a Prop to Faith, which he gave to his wife, and a book on patience, which he left to his half-sister Patience, he bequeathed all his notebooks to his son-in-law, John Houghton. He had little else to leave and apparently made no will.

Wallington was in many respects the quintessential puritan, introspective, bookish, sermon-going, scrupulous in his business relations, and constantly struggling for even-tempered acceptance of life and of himself, which he believed should accompany assurance of election. He followed the fortunes of protestantism during the Thirty Years' War and those of parliament during the civil war. Although he served conscientiously as a lay elder in the fourth London classis from 1646 until his last years his Presbyterianism was based on his desire for parish discipline, and his only quarrel with the protectorate was that it did not bring the godly reformation that he had long prayed for. As he wrote in 1655, it was the toleration of 'many strange, false forms of worship', of 'Sabbath profanation', of 'our cruel oppression of the poor', and of 'our impudent pride' that he found profoundly disillusioning and that made him fear in his last years a dreadful punishment of his 'rebellious City' ('A memorial of God's judgments upon sabbath breakers, drunkards and other vile livers', BL, Sloane MS 1457, fols. 99r-101v). Wallington died in Eastcheap in August 1658.

P. S. Seaver

Sources P. S. Seaver, Wallington's world: a puritan artisan in seventeenth-century London (1985) + N. Wallington, Historical notices of events occurring chiefly in the reign of Charles I, ed. R. Webb, 2 vols. (1869) + parish register, St Leonard Eastcheap, GL, MS 17607 + Turners' Company, book of apprentice bindings, GL, MS 3302/1 + Turners' Company, court minutes, 1605-33, GL, MS 3295/1
Archives BL, 'The growth of a Christian', Add. MS 40883 + BL, letter-book, Sloane MS 922 + BL, 'A memorial of God's judgements upon sabbath breakers, drunkards and other vile livers', Sloane MS 1457 + BL, untitled MS, partly published as Historical notices, Add. MS 21935 + Folger, 'Extract of the passages of my life', MS V.a.436 + GL, 'A record of God's mercies, or, A thankful remembrance', MS 204 + Tatton Park, Cheshire, 'A record of mercies continued', MS CR 4-7
SHALOM, Naomi.
This is interesting.
I never read any world from the great puritans, but I have a lot of respect for their dedication to serve Ashem.
Have a blessed day.
 

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Nehemiah Wallington (1598-1658)

Taken from the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography

Wallington, turner and diarist, was born on 12 May 1598 in the parish of St Leonard Eastcheap, London, the tenth of twelve children and the fourth son of John Wallington, citizen and turner (1552/3-1638), and his wife, Elizabeth (1562/3-1603), the daughter of Anthony Hall, citizen and skinner, and his wife, Jane. Following the death of Elizabeth, John Wallington married Joan Hinde, a widow with two children, and following her death in 1605 he married, as his third wife, Alice Harrison (d. 1634), also a widow with two children and the mother of Patience, Nehemiah's half-sister.

Wallington was never apprenticed but set up shop as a turner after admission to the Turners' Company, by patrimony, on 18 May 1620. Within a year he had married Grace Rampaigne; she was the sister of Livewell Rampaigne, a minister of Burton and then Broxholme, whose letters of comfort Nehemiah preserved and whose widow, Sarah, and her two children lived with the Wallingtons from 1635 until her death in 1654, and of Zachariah Rampaigne, a planter in Ireland killed during the rising of 1641, whose son Charles was taken in by the Wallingtons and served as Nehemiah's apprentice until his freedom in 1655.

Wallington's freedom as a turner and his marriage followed two years of mental breakdown, during which, doubting of his salvation, he had made a number of suicide attempts, complicated by his desire to protect his father and the puritan community from the disgrace of such an ungodly act, and had first begun to write. His work, initially a record of his sins and God's mercies, was abandoned in 1620 when he began 'A record of God's mercies, or, A thankful remembrance', part diary, part commonplace book, which he continued intermittently well into the 1630s. A combination of work and family responsibilities apparently prevented any further breakdown. Wallington was sustained by the friendship and counsel of Henry Roborough, the young curate and lecturer at St Leonard Eastcheap, by the steady common sense and strength of Grace, and perhaps by the discipline of writing. He also received a loan from the Turners' Company. However, the death of his first child, Elizabeth, in 1625 led to a fresh crisis, during which Wallington confessed that he forgot all his 'purposes, promises and covenants' with God and was inconsolable until reminded by Grace that their daughter had gone 'home to her husband Christ Jesus' ('A record of God's mercies', Guildhall Library, MS 204, p. 409). Their son John died six months after Elizabeth, their second son, Nehemiah, in 1627, and their last child, Samuel, born in 1630, died in October 1632. Only their daughter Sarah, born in 1627, survived to adulthood to marry, on 20 July 1647, a young godly turner, John Houghton.

Unlike his father and his elder brother John, both of whom were liverymen, serving their turn as masters, Wallington never left the yeomanry of the Turners' Company. Although he apparently worked steadily at his craft he had no head for business, as he confessed on more than one occasion, and struggled all his life to find some balance between the demands of his calling as a turner and the more compelling demands of his calling as a Christian. He regularly rose in the small hours of the morning to write before private prayer in his closet and further public prayers with his household. He admitted to spending too much on books, particularly on news-sheets during the 1640s, and had a library of more than 200 works, beginning with William Gouge's Of Domestical Duties, which he purchased soon after his marriage. By 1654, when he compiled a catalogue of his writings, he listed fifty notebooks, ranging from his diary to memorials of God's judgements against sabbath breakers, commonplaces from scripture, and various puritan guides to the godly life, sermon notes, a volume of collected letters, a number of volumes detailing the mercies he had received, and a number of volumes of political news collected during the 1640s. Aside from a book called The Mighty Works of the Lord, which is a Prop to Faith, which he gave to his wife, and a book on patience, which he left to his half-sister Patience, he bequeathed all his notebooks to his son-in-law, John Houghton. He had little else to leave and apparently made no will.

Wallington was in many respects the quintessential puritan, introspective, bookish, sermon-going, scrupulous in his business relations, and constantly struggling for even-tempered acceptance of life and of himself, which he believed should accompany assurance of election. He followed the fortunes of protestantism during the Thirty Years' War and those of parliament during the civil war. Although he served conscientiously as a lay elder in the fourth London classis from 1646 until his last years his Presbyterianism was based on his desire for parish discipline, and his only quarrel with the protectorate was that it did not bring the godly reformation that he had long prayed for. As he wrote in 1655, it was the toleration of 'many strange, false forms of worship', of 'Sabbath profanation', of 'our cruel oppression of the poor', and of 'our impudent pride' that he found profoundly disillusioning and that made him fear in his last years a dreadful punishment of his 'rebellious City' ('A memorial of God's judgments upon sabbath breakers, drunkards and other vile livers', BL, Sloane MS 1457, fols. 99r-101v). Wallington died in Eastcheap in August 1658.

P. S. Seaver

Sources P. S. Seaver, Wallington's world: a puritan artisan in seventeenth-century London (1985) + N. Wallington, Historical notices of events occurring chiefly in the reign of Charles I, ed. R. Webb, 2 vols. (1869) + parish register, St Leonard Eastcheap, GL, MS 17607 + Turners' Company, book of apprentice bindings, GL, MS 3302/1 + Turners' Company, court minutes, 1605-33, GL, MS 3295/1
Archives BL, 'The growth of a Christian', Add. MS 40883 + BL, letter-book, Sloane MS 922 + BL, 'A memorial of God's judgements upon sabbath breakers, drunkards and other vile livers', Sloane MS 1457 + BL, untitled MS, partly published as Historical notices, Add. MS 21935 + Folger, 'Extract of the passages of my life', MS V.a.436 + GL, 'A record of God's mercies, or, A thankful remembrance', MS 204 + Tatton Park, Cheshire, 'A record of mercies continued', MS CR 4-7
Poor 'ol chap. He lived his entire life as an idealist only to resign near his death to people's tolerance for 'many strange, false forms of worship', 'Sabbath profanation', cruel oppression of the poor, and that people have an 'impudent pride'. 400 years later, nothing has changed. He would be truly disillusioned.

If only he had Lumberjocks back then, he might have found more solace in his turning.
 

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Nehemiah Wallington (1598-1658)

Taken from the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography

Wallington, turner and diarist, was born on 12 May 1598 in the parish of St Leonard Eastcheap, London, the tenth of twelve children and the fourth son of John Wallington, citizen and turner (1552/3-1638), and his wife, Elizabeth (1562/3-1603), the daughter of Anthony Hall, citizen and skinner, and his wife, Jane. Following the death of Elizabeth, John Wallington married Joan Hinde, a widow with two children, and following her death in 1605 he married, as his third wife, Alice Harrison (d. 1634), also a widow with two children and the mother of Patience, Nehemiah's half-sister.

Wallington was never apprenticed but set up shop as a turner after admission to the Turners' Company, by patrimony, on 18 May 1620. Within a year he had married Grace Rampaigne; she was the sister of Livewell Rampaigne, a minister of Burton and then Broxholme, whose letters of comfort Nehemiah preserved and whose widow, Sarah, and her two children lived with the Wallingtons from 1635 until her death in 1654, and of Zachariah Rampaigne, a planter in Ireland killed during the rising of 1641, whose son Charles was taken in by the Wallingtons and served as Nehemiah's apprentice until his freedom in 1655.

Wallington's freedom as a turner and his marriage followed two years of mental breakdown, during which, doubting of his salvation, he had made a number of suicide attempts, complicated by his desire to protect his father and the puritan community from the disgrace of such an ungodly act, and had first begun to write. His work, initially a record of his sins and God's mercies, was abandoned in 1620 when he began 'A record of God's mercies, or, A thankful remembrance', part diary, part commonplace book, which he continued intermittently well into the 1630s. A combination of work and family responsibilities apparently prevented any further breakdown. Wallington was sustained by the friendship and counsel of Henry Roborough, the young curate and lecturer at St Leonard Eastcheap, by the steady common sense and strength of Grace, and perhaps by the discipline of writing. He also received a loan from the Turners' Company. However, the death of his first child, Elizabeth, in 1625 led to a fresh crisis, during which Wallington confessed that he forgot all his 'purposes, promises and covenants' with God and was inconsolable until reminded by Grace that their daughter had gone 'home to her husband Christ Jesus' ('A record of God's mercies', Guildhall Library, MS 204, p. 409). Their son John died six months after Elizabeth, their second son, Nehemiah, in 1627, and their last child, Samuel, born in 1630, died in October 1632. Only their daughter Sarah, born in 1627, survived to adulthood to marry, on 20 July 1647, a young godly turner, John Houghton.

Unlike his father and his elder brother John, both of whom were liverymen, serving their turn as masters, Wallington never left the yeomanry of the Turners' Company. Although he apparently worked steadily at his craft he had no head for business, as he confessed on more than one occasion, and struggled all his life to find some balance between the demands of his calling as a turner and the more compelling demands of his calling as a Christian. He regularly rose in the small hours of the morning to write before private prayer in his closet and further public prayers with his household. He admitted to spending too much on books, particularly on news-sheets during the 1640s, and had a library of more than 200 works, beginning with William Gouge's Of Domestical Duties, which he purchased soon after his marriage. By 1654, when he compiled a catalogue of his writings, he listed fifty notebooks, ranging from his diary to memorials of God's judgements against sabbath breakers, commonplaces from scripture, and various puritan guides to the godly life, sermon notes, a volume of collected letters, a number of volumes detailing the mercies he had received, and a number of volumes of political news collected during the 1640s. Aside from a book called The Mighty Works of the Lord, which is a Prop to Faith, which he gave to his wife, and a book on patience, which he left to his half-sister Patience, he bequeathed all his notebooks to his son-in-law, John Houghton. He had little else to leave and apparently made no will.

Wallington was in many respects the quintessential puritan, introspective, bookish, sermon-going, scrupulous in his business relations, and constantly struggling for even-tempered acceptance of life and of himself, which he believed should accompany assurance of election. He followed the fortunes of protestantism during the Thirty Years' War and those of parliament during the civil war. Although he served conscientiously as a lay elder in the fourth London classis from 1646 until his last years his Presbyterianism was based on his desire for parish discipline, and his only quarrel with the protectorate was that it did not bring the godly reformation that he had long prayed for. As he wrote in 1655, it was the toleration of 'many strange, false forms of worship', of 'Sabbath profanation', of 'our cruel oppression of the poor', and of 'our impudent pride' that he found profoundly disillusioning and that made him fear in his last years a dreadful punishment of his 'rebellious City' ('A memorial of God's judgments upon sabbath breakers, drunkards and other vile livers', BL, Sloane MS 1457, fols. 99r-101v). Wallington died in Eastcheap in August 1658.

P. S. Seaver

Sources P. S. Seaver, Wallington's world: a puritan artisan in seventeenth-century London (1985) + N. Wallington, Historical notices of events occurring chiefly in the reign of Charles I, ed. R. Webb, 2 vols. (1869) + parish register, St Leonard Eastcheap, GL, MS 17607 + Turners' Company, book of apprentice bindings, GL, MS 3302/1 + Turners' Company, court minutes, 1605-33, GL, MS 3295/1
Archives BL, 'The growth of a Christian', Add. MS 40883 + BL, letter-book, Sloane MS 922 + BL, 'A memorial of God's judgements upon sabbath breakers, drunkards and other vile livers', Sloane MS 1457 + BL, untitled MS, partly published as Historical notices, Add. MS 21935 + Folger, 'Extract of the passages of my life', MS V.a.436 + GL, 'A record of God's mercies, or, A thankful remembrance', MS 204 + Tatton Park, Cheshire, 'A record of mercies continued', MS CR 4-7
I must go and change my glasses, I just read "...he admitted to spending too much on abebooks…"
 

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Nehemiah Wallington (1598-1658)

Taken from the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography

Wallington, turner and diarist, was born on 12 May 1598 in the parish of St Leonard Eastcheap, London, the tenth of twelve children and the fourth son of John Wallington, citizen and turner (1552/3-1638), and his wife, Elizabeth (1562/3-1603), the daughter of Anthony Hall, citizen and skinner, and his wife, Jane. Following the death of Elizabeth, John Wallington married Joan Hinde, a widow with two children, and following her death in 1605 he married, as his third wife, Alice Harrison (d. 1634), also a widow with two children and the mother of Patience, Nehemiah's half-sister.

Wallington was never apprenticed but set up shop as a turner after admission to the Turners' Company, by patrimony, on 18 May 1620. Within a year he had married Grace Rampaigne; she was the sister of Livewell Rampaigne, a minister of Burton and then Broxholme, whose letters of comfort Nehemiah preserved and whose widow, Sarah, and her two children lived with the Wallingtons from 1635 until her death in 1654, and of Zachariah Rampaigne, a planter in Ireland killed during the rising of 1641, whose son Charles was taken in by the Wallingtons and served as Nehemiah's apprentice until his freedom in 1655.

Wallington's freedom as a turner and his marriage followed two years of mental breakdown, during which, doubting of his salvation, he had made a number of suicide attempts, complicated by his desire to protect his father and the puritan community from the disgrace of such an ungodly act, and had first begun to write. His work, initially a record of his sins and God's mercies, was abandoned in 1620 when he began 'A record of God's mercies, or, A thankful remembrance', part diary, part commonplace book, which he continued intermittently well into the 1630s. A combination of work and family responsibilities apparently prevented any further breakdown. Wallington was sustained by the friendship and counsel of Henry Roborough, the young curate and lecturer at St Leonard Eastcheap, by the steady common sense and strength of Grace, and perhaps by the discipline of writing. He also received a loan from the Turners' Company. However, the death of his first child, Elizabeth, in 1625 led to a fresh crisis, during which Wallington confessed that he forgot all his 'purposes, promises and covenants' with God and was inconsolable until reminded by Grace that their daughter had gone 'home to her husband Christ Jesus' ('A record of God's mercies', Guildhall Library, MS 204, p. 409). Their son John died six months after Elizabeth, their second son, Nehemiah, in 1627, and their last child, Samuel, born in 1630, died in October 1632. Only their daughter Sarah, born in 1627, survived to adulthood to marry, on 20 July 1647, a young godly turner, John Houghton.

Unlike his father and his elder brother John, both of whom were liverymen, serving their turn as masters, Wallington never left the yeomanry of the Turners' Company. Although he apparently worked steadily at his craft he had no head for business, as he confessed on more than one occasion, and struggled all his life to find some balance between the demands of his calling as a turner and the more compelling demands of his calling as a Christian. He regularly rose in the small hours of the morning to write before private prayer in his closet and further public prayers with his household. He admitted to spending too much on books, particularly on news-sheets during the 1640s, and had a library of more than 200 works, beginning with William Gouge's Of Domestical Duties, which he purchased soon after his marriage. By 1654, when he compiled a catalogue of his writings, he listed fifty notebooks, ranging from his diary to memorials of God's judgements against sabbath breakers, commonplaces from scripture, and various puritan guides to the godly life, sermon notes, a volume of collected letters, a number of volumes detailing the mercies he had received, and a number of volumes of political news collected during the 1640s. Aside from a book called The Mighty Works of the Lord, which is a Prop to Faith, which he gave to his wife, and a book on patience, which he left to his half-sister Patience, he bequeathed all his notebooks to his son-in-law, John Houghton. He had little else to leave and apparently made no will.

Wallington was in many respects the quintessential puritan, introspective, bookish, sermon-going, scrupulous in his business relations, and constantly struggling for even-tempered acceptance of life and of himself, which he believed should accompany assurance of election. He followed the fortunes of protestantism during the Thirty Years' War and those of parliament during the civil war. Although he served conscientiously as a lay elder in the fourth London classis from 1646 until his last years his Presbyterianism was based on his desire for parish discipline, and his only quarrel with the protectorate was that it did not bring the godly reformation that he had long prayed for. As he wrote in 1655, it was the toleration of 'many strange, false forms of worship', of 'Sabbath profanation', of 'our cruel oppression of the poor', and of 'our impudent pride' that he found profoundly disillusioning and that made him fear in his last years a dreadful punishment of his 'rebellious City' ('A memorial of God's judgments upon sabbath breakers, drunkards and other vile livers', BL, Sloane MS 1457, fols. 99r-101v). Wallington died in Eastcheap in August 1658.

P. S. Seaver

Sources P. S. Seaver, Wallington's world: a puritan artisan in seventeenth-century London (1985) + N. Wallington, Historical notices of events occurring chiefly in the reign of Charles I, ed. R. Webb, 2 vols. (1869) + parish register, St Leonard Eastcheap, GL, MS 17607 + Turners' Company, book of apprentice bindings, GL, MS 3302/1 + Turners' Company, court minutes, 1605-33, GL, MS 3295/1
Archives BL, 'The growth of a Christian', Add. MS 40883 + BL, letter-book, Sloane MS 922 + BL, 'A memorial of God's judgements upon sabbath breakers, drunkards and other vile livers', Sloane MS 1457 + BL, untitled MS, partly published as Historical notices, Add. MS 21935 + Folger, 'Extract of the passages of my life', MS V.a.436 + GL, 'A record of God's mercies, or, A thankful remembrance', MS 204 + Tatton Park, Cheshire, 'A record of mercies continued', MS CR 4-7
Interesting , glad I'm in more modern times
 

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Discussion Starter · #16 ·
Coopers v. Joyners

In this English folk-song (1681) coopers and joyners are compared and contrasted. Apparently, the cooper is 'the man,' as well as 'the white boy'. Some of the lyrics could be oddly contemporary! But as the song progresses, the religious and political overtones of the time grow and become more humorous. I definitely need to check into the background. I wonder if this has anything to do with Stephen Colledge, alias: The Protestant Joyner…

14px Helvetica,Arial,Sans-serif; text-decoration: underline;" title="View Cooper Joyner on Scribd" href="http://www.scribd.com/doc/34694830/Cooper-Joyner">Cooper Joyner</a> http://d1.scribdassets.com/ScribdViewer.swf?document_id=34694830&access_key=key-1gajbubp8yd0lypvm6xw&page=1&viewMode=list
 

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Coopers v. Joyners

In this English folk-song (1681) coopers and joyners are compared and contrasted. Apparently, the cooper is 'the man,' as well as 'the white boy'. Some of the lyrics could be oddly contemporary! But as the song progresses, the religious and political overtones of the time grow and become more humorous. I definitely need to check into the background. I wonder if this has anything to do with Stephen Colledge, alias: The Protestant Joyner…

14px Helvetica,Arial,Sans-serif; text-decoration: underline;" title="View Cooper Joyner on Scribd" href="http://www.scribd.com/doc/34694830/Cooper-Joyner">Cooper Joyner</a> http://d1.scribdassets.com/ScribdViewer.swf?document_id=34694830&access_key=key-1gajbubp8yd0lypvm6xw&page=1&viewMode=list
;-)
 

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Coopers v. Joyners

In this English folk-song (1681) coopers and joyners are compared and contrasted. Apparently, the cooper is 'the man,' as well as 'the white boy'. Some of the lyrics could be oddly contemporary! But as the song progresses, the religious and political overtones of the time grow and become more humorous. I definitely need to check into the background. I wonder if this has anything to do with Stephen Colledge, alias: The Protestant Joyner…

14px Helvetica,Arial,Sans-serif; text-decoration: underline;" title="View Cooper Joyner on Scribd" href="http://www.scribd.com/doc/34694830/Cooper-Joyner">Cooper Joyner</a> http://d1.scribdassets.com/ScribdViewer.swf?document_id=34694830&access_key=key-1gajbubp8yd0lypvm6xw&page=1&viewMode=list
sorry Naomi
can´t open the vidio
Dennis
 

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Coopers v. Joyners

In this English folk-song (1681) coopers and joyners are compared and contrasted. Apparently, the cooper is 'the man,' as well as 'the white boy'. Some of the lyrics could be oddly contemporary! But as the song progresses, the religious and political overtones of the time grow and become more humorous. I definitely need to check into the background. I wonder if this has anything to do with Stephen Colledge, alias: The Protestant Joyner…

14px Helvetica,Arial,Sans-serif; text-decoration: underline;" title="View Cooper Joyner on Scribd" href="http://www.scribd.com/doc/34694830/Cooper-Joyner">Cooper Joyner</a> http://d1.scribdassets.com/ScribdViewer.swf?document_id=34694830&access_key=key-1gajbubp8yd0lypvm6xw&page=1&viewMode=list
Ha! That's good stuff!
 
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