on a visit, retired, that her little girl, of four years old, might go to bed. She returned in about half an hour, and said to a lady near her, "She is gone to sleep. I put on my night-cap, and lay down by her, and she soon dropped off." Mr. Hall, who overheard this, said, "Excuse me, madam: do you wish your child to grow up a liar?"-"Oh dear no, sir; I should be shocked at such a thing."—" Then bear with me while I say, you must never act a lie before her children are very quick observers, and soon learn that that which assumes to be what it is not is a lie, whether acted or spoken." This was uttered with a kindness which precluded offence, yet with a seriousness that could not be forgotten.

His dislike to compliments was thus expressed :-" In compliments two and two do not make four; and twenty and twenty fall very far short of forty. Deal not, then, in that deceitful arithmetic."

It was said in Mr. Hall's hearing that "compliments were pleasing truths, and flatteries pleasing untruths." He remarked-"Neither of them are pleasing to a man of reflection, for the falsehoods in this case so nearly assume the semblance of truth, that one is perplexed to tell which is actually given; and no man is pleased with perplexity."

"You remember Mr.

sir." "Yes, very well."-" Were you aware of his fondness for brandy and water?"-"No."—" It was a sad habit; but it grew out of his love of story-telling; and that also is a bad habit, a very bad habit for a minister of the gospel. As he grew old, his animal spirits flagged, and his stories became defective in vivacity: he therefore took to brandy and water; weak enough, it is true, at first, but soon nearly half-and-half.' Ere long he indulged the habit in a morning; and when he came to Cambridge he would call upon me, and before he had been with me five minutes ask for a little brandy and water, which was, of course, to give him artificial spirits to render him agreeable in his visits to others. I felt great difficulty; for he, you know, sir, was much older than I was; yet, being persuaded that the ruin of his character, if not of his peace, was inevitable, unless something was done, I resolved upon one strong effort for his rescue. So the next time that he called, and, as usual, said, 'Friend Hall, I will thank you for a glass of brandy and water,' I replied, Call things by their right names, and you shall have as much as you please.'-' Why, don't I employ the right name? I ask for a glass of brandy and water.'-'That is the current, but not the appropriate name; ask for a glass of liquid fire and distilled damnation, and you shall have a gallon.' Poor man, he turned pale, and for a moment seemed struggling with anger. But, knowing that I did not mean to insult him, he stretched out his hand, and said, 'Brother Hall, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.' From that time he ceased to take brandy and water."

In one of my early interviews with Mr. Hall, I used the word felicity three or four times in rather quick succession. He asked, "Why do you say felicity, sir? Happiness is a better word, more musical, and genuine English, coming from the Saxon."" Not more musical, I think, sir."-"Yes, more musical, and so are words derived from the Saxon generally. Listen, sir: My heart is smitten and withered like grass;' there's plaintive music. Listen again, sir: Under the shadow of thy wings will I rejoice;' there's cheerful music."-"Yes, but rejoice is French." "True, but all the rest is Saxon, and rejoice is almost out of tune with the other words. Listen again: Thou hast delivered my eyes from tears, my soul from death, and my feet from falling;' all Saxon, sir, except delivered. I could think of the word tear, sir, till I wept. Then again, for another noble specimen, and almost all good old Saxon-English: Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.'"

Shortly after this I was reading the original edition of Doddridge's Pneumatology, and asked Mr. Hall to lend me Kippis's edition, in which the references to other authorities, on the various topics discussed, are greatly increased. He told me that he did not possess Kippis's edition, in a tone which then surprised me a little, as it showed that he did not highly estimate Kippis's authority. I there

This was the individual referred to, p. 215.

fore asked, "Was not Dr. Kippis a clever man ?"" He might be a very clever man by nature, for aught I know, but he laid so many books upon his head that his brains could not move." This was to me, who, at that period, devoted much more time to reading than to thinking, an admirable lesson.

On being asked whether he was an Arminian or a Calvinist, he said, “Neither, sir, but I believe I recede further from Arminianism than from Calvinism. If a man profess himself a decided Arminian, I infer from it that he is not a good logician; but, sir, it does not interfere with his personal piety; look at good Mr. Benson, for example. I regard the question more as metaphysical than religious." A lady who had been speaking of the Supreme Being with great familiarity, but in religious phraseology, having retired, he said, "I wish I knew how to cure that good lady of her bad habit. I have tried, but as yet in vain. It is a great mistake to affect this kind of familiarity with the King of kings, and speak of him as though he were a next-door neighbour, from the pretence of love. Mr. Boyle's well-known habit was infinitely to be commended. And one of our old divines, I forget which, well remarks that, Nothing but ignorance can be guilty of this boldness; that there is no divinity but in an humble fear, no philosophy but shows itself in silent admiration.""

When two or three gentlemen were discussing the question, whether man of no religion can be a successful minister of the gospel, surprise was expressed that Mr. Hall remained silent, "Sir," said he, in reply, "I would not deny that a sermon from a bad man may sometimes do good; but the general question does not admit of an argument. Is it at all probable, that one who is a willing servant of Satan (and that, you know, sir, is the hypothesis you assume) will fight against him with all his might, and if not, what success can be rationally expected ?"*

Mr. Hall did not permit his sedulous cultivation of the mind to draw him aside from the cultivation of the heart. The evidences were, indeed, very strong, that his preparation for ministerial duty was devotional as well as intellectual. Thus, his public services, by a striking gradation, for months and years, evinced an obvious growth in mental power, in literary acquisition, and in the seriousness, affection, and ardour of a man of piety. His usefulness and his popularity increased; the church and congregation became considerably augmented; and in 1798 it was found necessary to enlarge the place of worship to accom modate about two hundred more persons.

Early in the year 1799, a severe fever, which brought him, in his own apprehension, and that of his friends, to the brink of the grave, gave him an opportunity of experiencing the support yielded by the doctrines of the Cross" in the near views of death and judgment." He "never before felt his mind so calm and happy." The impression was not only salutary, but abiding; and it again prompted him to the investigation of one or two points, with regard to which he had long felt himself floating in uncertainty. Although he had for some years steadily and earnestly enforced the necessity of Divine influence in the transformation of character, and in perseverance in a course of consistent, holy obedience, yet he spoke of it as "the influence of the Spirit of God," and never in express terms as "the influence of the Holy Spirit." The reason was, that though he fully believed the necessity of spiritual agency in commencing and continuing the spiritual life, he doubted the doctrine of the distinct personality of the Holy Spirit. But about this time he was struck with the fact that, whenever in private prayer he was in the most deeply devotional frame, "most overwhelmed with the sense that he was nothing, and God was all in all," he always felt himself inclined to adopt a Trinitarian doxology. This circumstance, occurring frequently, and more frequently meditated upon

* A few more miscellaneous gleanings from Mr. Hall's remarks in conversation are inserted in Appendix, Note A.

in a tone of honest and anxious inquiry, issued at length in a persuasion that the Holy Spirit is really and truly God, and not an emanation. It was not, however, until 1800 that he publicly included the personality of the Holy Spirit in his statements of the doctrine of spiritual influence.

In attempting to give some idea of the general character and style of Mr. Hall's public services, while I had the privilege of hearing him at Cambridge, I feel that I shall neither adequately describe what his preaching really was, nor even do justice to my own conceptions of it.

His manner of reading the Scriptures at the beginning of the service was not generally interesting; nor did the portion read always bear an obvious reference to the text or subject afterward brought forward. But when passages of Scripture were quoted in the sermon, they were so delivered as to give to their true meaning the most intelligible prominence and force.

His prayers were remarkable for their simplicity and their devotional feeling. No person could listen to them without being persuaded that he who uttered them was really engaged in prayer, was holding communion with his God and Father in Christ Jesus. His tones and his countenance throughout these exercises were those of one most deeply imbued with a sense of his unworthiness, and throwing himself at the feet of the Great Eternal, conscious that he could present no claim for a single blessing but the blood of atonement, yet animated by the cheering hope that the voice of that blood would prevail. The structure of these prayers never indicated any preconceived plan. They were the genuine effusions of a truly devotional spirit, animated by a vivid recollection of what in his own state, in that of the congregation, of the town and vicinity, needed most ardently to be laid before the Father of Mercies. Thus they were remarkably comprehensive, and furnished a far greater variety on the successive occasions of public worship, than those of any other minister whom I have ever known. The portions which were devoted to intercession operated most happily in drawing the affections of his people towards himself; since they showed how completely his Christian sympathy had prepared him to make their respective cases his own.

The commencement of his sermons did not excite much expectation in strangers, except they were such as recollected how the mental agitation, produced by diffidence, characterized the first sentences of some of the orators of antiquity. He began with hesitation, and often in a very low and feeble tone, coughing frequently, as though he were oppressed by asthmatic obstructions. As he proceeded, his manner became easy, graceful, and at length highly impassioned; his voice also acquired more flexibility, body, and sweetness, and in all his happier and more successful efforts, swelled into a stream of the most touching and impressive melody. The further he advanced, the more spontaneous, natural, and free from labour seemed the progression of thought. He announced the results of the most extensive reading, of the most patient investigation, or of the profoundest thinking, with such unassuming simplicity, yet set them in such a position of obvious and lucid reality, that the auditors wondered how things so simple and manifest should have escaped them. Throughout his sermons he kept his subject thoroughly in view, and so incessantly brought forward new arguments, or new illustrations, to confirm or to explain it, that with him amplification was almost invariably accumulative in its tendency. One thought was succeeded by another, and that by another and another, each more weighty than the preceding, each more calculated

to deepen and render permanent the ultimate impression. He could at pleasure adopt the unadorned, the ornamental, or the energetic; and indeed combine them in every diversity of modulation. In his higher flights, what he said of Burke might, with the slightest deduction, be applied to himself" that his imperial fancy laid all nature under tribute, and collected riches from every scene of the creation, and every walk of art;"* and at the same time, that could be affirmed of Mr. Hall which could not be affirmed of Mr. Burke-that he never fatigued and oppressed by gaudy and superfluous imagery. Whenever the subject obviously justified it, he would yield the reins to an eloquence more diffusive and magnificent than the ordinary course of pulpit instruction seemed to require; yet so exquisite was his perception of beauty, and so sound his judgment, that not the coldest taste, provided it were real taste, could ever wish an image omitted which Mr. Hall had introduced. His inexhaustible variety augmented the general effect. The same images, the same illustrations scarcely ever recurred. So ample were his stores, that repetition of every kind was usually avoided; while in his illustrations he would connect and contrast what was disjointed and opposed, or distinctly unfold what was abstracted or obscure, in such terms as were generally intelligible, not only to the well-informed but to the meanest capacity. As he advanced to his practical applications, all his mental powers were shown in the most palpable but finely balanced exercise. His mind would, if I may so speak, collect itself and come forth with a luminous activity, proving, as he advanced, how vast, and, in some important senses, how next to irresistible those powers were. In such seasons his preaching communicated universal animation: his congregation would seem to partake of his spirit, to think and feel as he did, to be fully influenced by the presence of the objects which he had placed before them, fully actuated by the motives which he had enforced with such energy and pathos.

All was doubtless heightened by his singular rapidity of utterance,by the rhythmical structure of his sentences, calculated at once for the transmission of the most momentous truths, for the powers of his voice, and for the convenience of breathing freely at measured intervals,—and, more than all, by the unequivocal earnestness and sincerity which pervaded the whole, and by the eloquence of his most speaking countenance and penetrating eye. In his sublimer strains, not only was every faculty of the soul enkindled and in entire operation, but his very features seemed fully to sympathize with the spirit, and to give out, nay, to throw out, thought, and sentiment, and feeling.

From the commencement of his discourse an almost breathless silence prevailed, deeply impressive and solemnizing from its singular intenseness. Not a sound was heard but that of the preacher's voice-scarcely an eye but was fixed upon him-not a countenance that he did not watch, and read, and interpret, as he surveyed them again and again with his rapid, ever-excursive glance. As he advanced and increased in animation, five or six of the auditors would be seen to rise and lean forward over the front of their pews, still keeping their eyes upon him. Some new or striking sentiment or expression would, in a few minutes, cause others to rise in like manner: shortly afterward still more, and so on, until, long before the close of the sermon, it often happened that a considerable portion of the congregation were seen standing,-every eye directed to the preacher, yet now and then for a moment glancing from one to another, thus transmitting and reciprocating thought and feeling :

See vol. ii. p. 69.

Mr. Hall himself, though manifestly absorbed in his subject, conscious of the whole, receiving new animation from what he thus witnessed, reflecting it back upon those who were already alive to the inspiration, until all that were susceptible of thought and emotion seemed wound up to the utmost limit of elevation on earth,-when he would close, and they reluctantly and slowly resume their seats.*

Scenes like this I have witnessed repeatedly, so productive of intense and hallowed feeling, that after an interval of more than thirty years they present themselves to my mind with a more vivid influence than many of the transactions of the last month.

And surely the delightful retrospection may be safely indulged, when it is considered that these sublime exertions were made for the promotion of man's best interests-to warn the impenitent-to show to the sinner the fatal error of his way-to invite the self-condemned to the only, the all-effectual remedy-to console and encourage the faithful -to distribute the bread of life among those who must otherwise perish -to "build up the church in her most holy faith;" when it is known, also, that while men of taste and intellect were both gratified and instructed, the uncultivated rustic heard, and understood, and received the Word of Life, and went on his way rejoicing. Numerous and diversified as were the feelings excited by this extraordinary preacher, none were more prevailing than surprise that one so richly endowed should seem so utterly unconscious of it, and gratitude that the Great Head of the church should have called such a man to his service, and placed him in so important a station as Cambridge, when his intellectual powers were in their full maturity and vigour.

I must not, I perceive, allow myself to sketch the difference between his sermons and his expositions, or between his preaching at Cambridge and in the neighbouring villages: nor must I dwell upon the weekly evening services, when he met a few of his people, chiefly of the poorer classes, in the vestry of his place of worship, and, in a strain of the most chaste and simple eloquence, comforted and instructed them in the "things pertaining to the kingdom of God." The diversity of his powers, the sincerity of his character, the warmth of his love to God and man, were in all alike apparent and no one that was not the victim of prejudice, or the slave of sin, could have seen him engaged in the service of God without being ready to testify, "this man must have read much, thought much, and prayed much," to be thus admirably furnished for his great work.

Striking evidences of the most stimulating immediate impression often occurred. I specify only two examples.

In 1812, Mr. Hall, who then resided at Leicester, paid one of his periodical visits to Bristol, and, as usual, often preached at Broadmead. He delivered a most solemn and impressive sermon on the text "Dead in trespasses and sins;" of which the concluding appeals were remarkably sublime and awful. The moment he had delivered the last sentence, Dr. Ryland, then the pastor of the church, hastened part of the way up the pulpit stairs, and while the tears trickled down his venerable face, exclaimed, with a vehemence which astonished both the preacher and the congregation,"Let all that are alive in Jerusalem pray for the dead, that they may live!"

In 1814, Mr. Hall, while preaching among his old friends at Cambridge, just before he commenced the application of his sermon, uttered a short but very fervent ejaculatory prayer, during which the whole congregation arose from their seats. Mr. Hall seemed surprised for a moment, and but for a moment, and remained in prayer for about five minutes. He then resumed his sermon, and continued preaching for more than twenty minutes, in such a strain of magnificent and overwhelming eloquence, as the extraordinary incident might be expected to produce from powers and feelings like his, the whole congregation standing until the close of the sermon.

The topics of these evening lectures were often biographical. The lives and characters of Jacob, Joseph, Moses, Elijah, Hannah, Samuel, Ruth, Daniel, &c. were briefly delineated, and made the basis of some useful practical reflections. Whenever the subject would fairly allow it, these reflections had an appropriate bearing upon the duties, the trials, and perplexities of persons in humble life. The sermon on "John fulfilled his course," inserted in the present volume, is very analo gous in its character to the discourses to which I here refer; but its commencement is more elaborate.