companied by his endeared and constant friend, Mr. Toller of Kettering, who preached for him the following sabbath, and administered the Lord's supper; this was to Mr. Hall a season of great refreshment and delight. During Mr. Hall's short stay at Kettering, on his way to Cambridge, an affecting circumstance was developed. Mr. Toller passing behind him, and casting his eyes on the elegantly formed head of his afflicted friend, observed the scars of some recent contusions, and gently enquired the cause. They are the wounds, said the sufferer, which I lately received in the house of my friends! Mr. Toller wept when the explanation was given; to a few others the same disclosure was made, and all lamented the highly dishonourable conduct of those who had violated so sacred a trust.

Mr. Hall gradually resumed his labours amongst a people who well knew how to appreciate their value and importance, and who with the utmost liberality provided, not only for all the expenses attendant on the late seclusion, but as far as possible for

any future contingency, which might possibly render him incapable of his official duties. The friends at Cambridge, aided by some in London, in Bristol, and other places, in the most handsome manner secured to him a life annuity, with some reversionary interest, in order to render his circumstances comparatively comfortable and independent, and which in all probability contributed to prolong the tranquility of his future life.

The recent affliction and recovery were attended with the happiest effects; a deeper tone of piety was diffused into his devotional exercises, encreasing zeal and fervour marked his pulpit addresses, while a growing attachment to the distinguishing doctrines of the gospel, and a more vivid sense of their importance, were becoming more and more evident; qualities which did not fail to give additional interest and efficacy to his ministry, and rivet the affectionate attention of his hearers. The sun of righteousness and truth now shone with a brighter splendour, and the opening prospect encouraged the liveliest hope of more extensive usefulness.

Unhappily, this scene of enchantment was to be again beclouded, and a veil drawn over the fairest prospects. In less than six months it was perceived that his mighty faculties were once more giving way, and reason tottered on its throne. He forgot the return of the sabbath, made no preparation for its services, and could scarcely be found when he was to enter the pulpit, with numerous other aberrations. A temporary seclusion was again necessary; and on the 26th of Nov. 1805, about twelve months after the first attack, he was placed under the care of a medical gentleman at the Fishponds, near Bristol. This recurrence of the disorder, though severe, was very short. After a few days only, the patient found himself comparatively well; and nearly from the commencement to the termination of the disorder there

occurred no material interruption of his mental and religious exercises; a calm reliance and humble confidence in God prevailed over every other sentiment and feeling.

Previous to this illness Mr. Hall contracted the habit of smoking, of which he was remarkably fond, and thought it tended a little to relieve the pain he so constantly endured. A curious colloquy arose out of this circumstance soon after his admission, which shows his ingenuity in endeavouring to obtain the privilege of a pipe, and the severity of his sarcasms when provoked by disappointment. Being invited to dine with the medical gentleman, in company with other convalescents, he on the first day said, Do you know sir which is the finest plant in all the universe? The doctor answered no, he did not know; he had not devoted much time or attention to botany. Do you know which it is, Mr. Hall? Yes, yes, he quickly replied; that is easily discovered-it is tobacco, certainly. The hint did not take effect, and he remained silent and dejected all that day. On the next opportunity he renewed the enquiry. Doctor, do you know the finest scent that ever accosted the nostrils of man? I cannot tell you immediately: but is it snuff, Mr. Hall? Snuff, snuff! No, no, sir; it is the fume of tobacco. Having received no favourable answer, he continued silent the remainder of the day. These attempts to obtain a pipe proving unsuccessful, he the next time put the question in still plainer terms. Doctor, do

you

ever smoke? No, certainly not, was the reply. Then sir, you are an object of profound compassion and commiseration. Why doctor, you are destitute of the finest of our six senses. The doctor politely thanked him, but assured him he needed not his compassion. Mr. Hall, attempting to justify his remark, replied, Why sir, would you not pity a man who had not the sense of seeing, hearing, or smelling? And as you have not the sense of smoking, you are an object of the profoundest pity and compassion. On the fourth day he openly requested the favour of a pipe, and could take no rest till he had obtained it. But he received for answer, You have been long enough in this establishment to know, sir, that the rules do not allow of smoking. I have: and what is the reason for that, doctor? Because, replied the doctor, it was thought to have a tendency to encrease the malady which prevails in this house. No, no, was responded; that indeed is not the reason. The true reason is, because the president of this establishment is a great blockhead!

Mr. Hall's propensity for smoking encreased so much upon him after this period, that he might be found occupied with a pipe most hours of the day. In his own apprehension the sedative effects of tobacco were beneficial to his health, tending to alleviate that incessant pain under which he laboured, or in some measure to divert his attention from it. A friend having presented him with a portable and capacious box for the purpose, he

seldom went from home without providing himself with an ample store of kynaster; and even when travelling outside a coach, which he commonly preferred, a pipe was frequently his companion. Unable to continue long in bed, from the encreasing pain it produced, he was in the habit of rising very early, lying down on the hard floor, and amusing himself with a pipe and a book. One dark winter's morning his candle went out; and as he could nowhere be found about the house, the family became alarmed; but just as some were going out with a lantern to search for him he made his appearance, saying he had traversed the streets to find a watchman to light his pipe; so essential was this little indulgence to his personal comfort. He took nothing whatever with his pipe, but swallowed the saliva as a sort of medicine.

After recovering from his second illness, and before he had finally quitted the medical asylum, Mr. Hall addressed the following letter to an intimate friend in the vicinity of Cambridge, distinguished like the former, by feelings of devout adoration for his great deliverance, mingled with sentiments of deep submission, and a conviction that he should not be able again to return to the people of his charge, nor for the present to resume the ministry. Happily, though compelled to relinquish his former engagements he was enabled, after a short time, gradually to commence preaching, under circumstances which singularly marked the hand of providence.