the least flattery, I have heard sermons from you, superior to any you have published.' "No, sir," he replied, "that is impossible; it is only your partiality: they cannot be so correct and finished as when they are prepared in the closet. Besides, sir, you must remember that the eye and the ear are very different critics: what will pass on hearing, the eye would immediately detect." "Yes, sir,' I replied; but, on the other hand, you must recollect there is the fire of the sanctuary, and the enthusiasm kindled by the subject, and the excitement of an audience,—all calculated to produce strains of eloquence which cannot be recalled or invented in retirement. However, I am not singular in this opinion, sir; our friend, Dr. Gregory, has frequently made similar remarks.' "Well, sir, there may be something in what you say, but he is partial too." I begged that he would pardon the suggestion, and reminded him of the claims of his rising family, adding, Now, sir, if you will prepare one volume of sermons for the press, I will engage to give you a thousand pounds immediately for it, and you shall have no further trouble with printers or booksellers.' "Ah, sir,” he replied, you talk like a man of business, who has been accustomed to work for money. Why, sir, I could not write for money: impossible! I should continually be thinking of the rule of three. If a volume of sermons would fetch a thousand pounds, how much would it be for a sermon? and how much for a page? and how much for a line? Why, sir, it would so engross my imagination, I could not

F

get on at all; the very process would absolutely stultify me."

About this period he had read Mills's History of India, of which he gave me an account, and was quite delighted with it, from its having enlarged his knowledge of Indian affairs. He said, that he had never understood the East Indian question so well before, and that he was an advocate for the extinction of the charter, which he considered was a monopoly equally injurious to both countries.

66

On the day of his weekly lecture, while at dinner, he appeared very thoughtful, and at length said, "I mean to preach to-night from these words, Lord, thou hast been our dwelling-place in all generations. Did you ever hear me from that text at Cambridge?" I replied in the affirmative. Well, then, I must change my subject, sir; for, as you have heard it before, I shall not like to preach from it again." Mr. Hall had a great objection for any of his friends to hear him a second time from any text, although his manner of treating it would be very different. I begged that he would not change it, as I should like much to hear him preach from it again. After some persuasion, he consented; and a wonderful sermon it was. He spoke of the Divine Being as " a rest, the home and dwelling-place of his people." I remember one striking sentence, which produced an effect almost indescribable: "All worlds meet in thee, thou vast Sensorium of the universe!" He alluded to home, as a man's dwelling-place; that however distant a man may be on a journey, amidst all the

difficulties, trials, and treatment he meets with, he consoles his mind with frequent thoughts of home; in which spot, however humble, is associated all that is tender and endearing in the relations of life. In such circumstances, he frequently anticipates the welcome which awaits him on his return. The Divine Being is that to a Christian, which home is to a weary traveller: it is his dwellingplace, the stay, the solace, the centre and rest of his spirit; and hence he is constantly anticipating his arrival at home. But then it becomes necessary, before these complacent thoughts of the Divine Being can be properly entertained, that the breach should be repaired. Sin has made a breach between God and his creatures; Jesus Christ is the great repairer of the breach: we must, therefore, be reconciled to God, through the death of his Son, who is our peacemaker; who hath assured us there is room enough in his Father's house for all his people: In my Father's house there are many dwelling-places; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you, &c. &c.

We had made up our minds to return the following day, but had not mentioned this to Mr. Hall, knowing that we should have a difficulty in leaving him. The next morning, on meeting Mrs. Greene, he thus accosted her; “I am quite astonished, madam, to find you are out of your mind." Mrs. G. was much alarmed at this sudden attack, and said, 'I really do not know what you mean, Mr. Hall.' "Why, ma'am, from what you

said to Mrs. Hall, last night, you must be out of your mind: she tells me that you and Mr. Greene intend to leave us to-day. If you do so, I shall consider that we have not made you comfortable, especially as you have travelled such a long way to see us. I cannot think of your going so soon," &c. When he came into the breakfast-room, he expostulated with me. I said that we had already stayed longer than we intended; but if he would allow us to go the next morning in peace, with his blessing, we would consent to remain till the morrow. "I will make no promise," was his reply: "sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.” Such was the great kindness of this amiable and extraordinary man. We left, the following day, with great regret.

"MY DEAR FRIEND,

66

July 21, 1822.

"I write in the utmost haste, to inform you that we shall be very happy to see you and Mrs. Greene, next Saturday, to spend the Lord's-day with us, and as much time afterwards as you can make convenient. I shall most certainly be at home; and it will be most gratifying to me and Mrs. Hall, to see you and Mrs. Greene. As to returning with you, I must at present decline it ; I have already been so very much out this summer, and have other engagements. Mrs. Hall unites

with me in most affectionate remembrances to you

and Mrs. Greene.

"I am, dear Sir,

"Yours most affectionately,

"ROBERT HALL."

I received this letter at Oundle, in Northamptonshire; and immediately went to Leicester alone in my gig, with the hope of bringing Mr. Hall back to spend a week with us. He consented to my request, on my promising to bring him home by the following Sabbath. Before commencing our journey, he prayed earnestly for his family; and commended his friend and himself to the protection of Almighty God, particularly praying "for preservation, that the stones of the field may be in league with us."

We had not been long on the road, before the sky became overcharged; and it seemed to gather clouds as for a tempest. We had many indications of a storm, before our arrival at Market Harborough. On entering the town, I said, 'I hope, sir, you will lay down your pipe; as it does not look well to smoke when passing through a town.' "O dear, sir," was his reply, "that does not signify, it is not as if I were a stranger; every body knows me here, sir; it will be thought nothing of." 'But indeed, in a town, sir, it does However, when we reached the first house, he laid down his pipe, and said with great archness and playfulness, "There, to please your majesty, I have laid down my pipe."

not look well.'

While we were at dinner, the tempest came on. There was much thunder and lightning, accompanied with violent rain. Mr. Hall was quite delighted at having escaped the storm. As soon as the weather cleared up, we set off for the next stage. He lighted his pipe at the first turnpike,