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WILLIAM HUNTINGTON.

own sense on all he quotes, and gives
it as such. Intermingling his expe-
rience with his commentaries, no sooner
does he thus begin to elucidate the
mysteries of faith, than most of his au-
ditors, all eye and ear, will rise from
their seats, eager to learn what the
preacher has still to say of himself. In
preaching, as in writing, he seems to
laugh in his heart. He rambles sadly,
and strays so completely from his text,
The
that you often lose sight of it.
divisions of his subject are so numerous,
that any one of his sermons might be
divided into three. Preaching is, with
him, talking; his discourses are as
story-telling. Action he has none, ex-
cept that of shifting his handkerchief
from hand to hand, and hugging his
cushion."

"Nature," says the same writer,
"has bestowed on him a vigorous,
original mind, and he employs it in
everything. Even his colloquial vul-
garity is in his favour. Survey him
when you will, he seems to have rubbed
off none of his native rudeness or black-
ness. He is eminently calculated to
gain an ascendancy over the million.
Instead of trying to teach the Bible, he
has left the Bible to teach him. Error
itself is original in him. All his notions
are his own, as well as his mode of im-
parting them. Religion has not been
discovered by him through the telescopes
of commentators."

His works consist chiefly of controversial pieces, plentifully seasoned with bitter personalities and allegorical dissertations on the more mystical parts of Scripture. His style, though coarse and incorrect, is often vigorous. Totally destitute of taste, he introduces among his most serious arguments, passages of low humour, which, however, are not in themselves without merit, and rude attacks upon his clerical brethren, regular and irregular, the whole of whom he denounced as being," weak vessels of error." In one of his tracts he thus evinces the contempt he felt for several other ministers:-" As to the secret lashes these gentlemen have given me, I know that it is little grief to me. God the Saviour revealed the doctrines I preach to my soul; and I defy either Hill or dale, Scot or lot, Parsons or parson-makers, Groves or avenues, Wilks or muscles, Wills or testaments,

Kinsmen or uncles, Towers or castles,
Watts or whims, Knights or days, to
prove that God's word points out either
law or rule, that Mount Zion does not
furnish the believer with."

One of his productions he entitled,
The Arminian Skeleton, or the Armi-
nians Dissected and Anatomised. When
compelled to change his name, he states
that he added the syllables ing and ton,
to Hunt, because ing ends several words
of a bad meaning, as lying, swearing,
murdering; and because ton signifies
twenty hundred weight, or a large and
He parodied the
capacious vessel.
pompous string of titles which often
follow the names of dignified clergy-
men, by frequently styling himself,
"William Huntington, S. S. minister of
the Gospel, at Providence chapel, Tich-
field-street, at Monkwell-street meeting,
at Horsleydown, and at Richmond, in
Surrey."

At a

His conduct towards his children was base and cruel in the extreme. time when he was opulent, he cast them upon the world, to struggle for the very means of existence. To one of them, whose weak intellect demanded more than a common share of paternal protection, he refused to render the least assistance, even when absolutely starving; and the wretched young man petty theft, was at length convicted of a which extreme want, perhaps, had driven him to commit.

That Huntington possessed extraordinary natural talents is admitted: that he was not without ambition, or a love of money is equally evident; but whether he was a penitent sinner, an enthusiast, or a contemptible hypocrite, appears by the statements of our unprejudiced predecessors to be somewhat doubtful. From what we find recorded of him, he seems, however, to have been destitute of all the nobler qualities of human nature. In the course of his career he displayed many revolting vices, but not a single active virtue, except perseverance in preaching repentance and faith; and in this, it may be said, his conduct was conducive to his temporal interest. No proof exists of his piety; benevolence has never, on good grounds, been attributed to him; and he was far less charitable than stern and censorious. No one ascribes to him the merit of encouraging talent, forgiving an enemy,

or relieving a friend in distress. Power and pelf seem to have been the objects of his idolatry: when he had attained the one, he boldly ventured to display his love for the other, by insolently demanding the freehold of the meetinghouse, which his enthusiastic followers had, at their own expense, erected for his use. It would be unfair to deny him the praise of unflinching resolution, at the commencement of the better part of his career; but, plunged into the lowest abyss of poverty, as he was, it is doubtful if he did not desperately attempt to qualify himself for preaching, merely with a view to better his forlorn condition. The cases he states, in which Providence is described as specially interfering for his relief, are incredible; and are rather the fictions of one who is desirous of displaying himself as having been the special object of divine favour, than sober realities. In his progress towards opulence and

dominion, he displayed a contemptible humility, which he threw off the moment he had acquired importance, and assumed the arrogant tone of a fortunate upstart. If he were not a penitent sinner, or a religious enthusiast, (and it is difficult to admit him to have been either of these characters, with such numerous instances before us of his cold-hearted selfishness, and grasping cupidity,) he was not only a despicable hypocrite, but a gross blasphemer. What practical proofs did he afford of the sincerity of his conversion? what good did he do besides preaching the Gospel, according to his own interpretation; if, indeed, that might be termed a good? None. He was a bad citizen; an avaricious and domineering pastor; a man who evidently married again, late in life, for money; a stonyhearted father; and, on the whole, one of the most selfish characters that ever existed.

Or

ROWLAND HILL.

ROWLAND, son of the late Sir Richard, and brother of General Lord Hill, was born about the year 1748. He studied first at Eton, and afterwards at Oxford, whence he was expelled, with some other young men, in 1768, for preaching in unauthorized places. He subsequently obtained admission to St. John's college, Cambridge, and succeeded in getting himself ordained, but not without considerable difficulty, in consequence of his having previously rendered himself conspicuous as a field preacher. It is related that, on receiving a remonstrance for his partial secession from the church, in which, on account of his family influence, he was sure of preferment, he replied, "My desire is to win souls, not livings; and if I can secure the bees, I care not who gets the hives." For some time he appears to have occupied himself chiefly in advocating Toplady, and in writing pamphlets which are characterized by great controversial bitterness. In 1783, he commenced building the chapel in Blackfriars-road, and soon became the pastor of a large congregation. About

the same period he married a lady named Gudway; by whom, however, he has had no family.

For the popularity, which, during a long series of years he has enjoyed, as a preacher, he appears to be chiefly indebted to his singularities. Without impeaching the motives of by far the greater part, if not the whole of his regular congregation, who, perhaps, admire his ministry, and endeavour to emulate his virtues, it may safely be said, that to vast numbers of those multitudes by whom he has been heard, the curious eccentricities of his style have formed the sole attraction to his chapel. The bad jokes and undignified observations which he is said to have uttered from the pulpit, are as discreditable to his judgment, as his strenuous labours for the relief of distress are honourable to his heart. It is related that once, while his wife was sitting in her pew, he pointed her out as a living illustration of the transitory nature of feminine beauty, commenting in very homely terms on the change which years had wrought in her appearance.

-"Ladies," said he, on another occasion, "love fine caps; so does Mrs. Hill. Yesterday came home a fiveguinea one; but she will never wear it, for I poked it into the fire, bandbox and all!"-One Sunday morning, just as she was entering the chapel, he exclaimed "Here comes my wife with a chest of drawers on her head! She went out to buy them, and spent all her money in that hoity-toity bonnet!" In allusion to the fact of his having caused many of the hymns of his chapel to be set to the music of God Save the King, Rule Britannia, and other popular compositions, he is said to have observed that he saw no reason why the devil should engross all the best tunes. -Instead of a scriptural text, he has been known to select, as the subject of his discourse, a newspaper paragraph. He once commenced a sermon, by shouting, "Matches! matches! matches! -You wonder," he continued, in his usual tone," at my text; but this morning, while I was engaged in my study, the devil whispered me, Ah! Rowland, your zeal is indeed noble; and how indefatigably you labour for the salvation of souls!' At the very moment a man passed under my window, crying Matches!' very lustily; and conscience said to me, Rowland, Rowland! you never laboured to save souls with half the zeal that this man does to sell matches!"-" Charity, my brethren," said he, in a discourse, which he preached in aid of a benevolent institution, at Wapping, "charity covereth a multitude of sins; and you have need to be charitable, for you are all great sinners, and some of you are whopping sinners."

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As much singularity has been attributed to him in private life, as in the pulpit. Hearing a dispute between two of his servants, as to which of them should wash the hall, each declaring "that it was not her business," he sent them both out on errands, and assumed the mop himself. On their return, they warmly protested against his being engaged in so menial a task. "Pho! pho!" said he, "'tis not your business, Peggy; nor your's either, Jane: so it must be mine, I suppose."

Some of his numberless benevolent actions are described as being tinged with that eccentricity which pervades

the whole of his conduct. While visiting the sick, on one occasion, in the neighbourhood of his residence, he found a poor emaciated creature, stretched on a miserable bed, in a garret, and without a shirt; the kind-hearted divine immediately stripped, and forced his own upon the reluctant invalid; for whom, he speedily procured a supply of other necessaries, and the assistance of a medical man, who soon restored the patient to health.

One night, after he had been in bed for some hours, he felt an impulse to get up and take a walk. Wandering into the Strand, he was there accosted by an unfortunate woman, with whom he entered into conversation; and, finding her, as he thought, weary of her evil course of life, and inclined to repent, he took her to his house, and prevailed upon Mrs. Hill to receive her, as a domestic. A similar anecdote has been recorded of the celebrated Burke.

Being robbed by a footpad, whose agitation of manner excited his interest, he asked him how long he had followed the perilous trade of a robber: "This is my first offence," replied the man; "extreme distress has driven me to it: I have a wife and children in a state of starvation." "If what you state be true," said the divine, after mentioning his name, 66 you need not fear to call upon me to-morrow." On the following day, the man presented himself to Mr. Hill, who thought proper to take him into his service, at the same time declaring that he would never divulge the circumstances of their first meeting, until the death of the offender. He

faithfully kept his promise, and never had cause to regret this romantic act of benevolence, the object of which, after twenty years of honest servitude, died under his roof. He preached his funeral sermon, wherein he related the above particulars. An anecdote, which appears to be identical with the present, has, it is proper to remark, been related of Dr. Fothergill.

His partial secession from the forms of the established church, (which, however, is sufficiently marked to justify those who deem him a dissenter,) has not precluded him from the pulpits of orthodox divines; by whom, his assistance, on a great number of occasions, appears to have been earnestly solicited,

on account of his singular success as a preacher of charity sermons. The collections made at the doors of his own chapel, for benevolent purposes, are stated to be proverbially great; and, in allusion to this notorious fact, he is said, on one occasion, while preaching elsewhere, for the benefit of some distressed persons, to have concluded his discourse in the following terms: "Put your hands into your pockets, and be sure there is something in them when they come out; let us have a good, round, Surrey chapel collection!"

Age, while it has rendered his appearance venerable, has broken his voice, rendered his enunciation indistinct, and even deprived him of those few graces of action, with which, in his prime, he was accustomed to adorn his homely, yet, notwithstanding the eccentricities with which they abounded, sensible and practical discourses. "About the year 1805," says a gentleman to whom the writer of this sketch

is largely indebted, "he was a remarkably handsome man; of a tall, commanding stature; with highly expressive features, a keen searching eye, and a singularly fine nose, which was bold, and aquiline, but in exact proportion to his face. His voice, too, was very powerful, and, at times, extremely melodious. When he first entered his pulpit, his nervous agitation was often extreme, and every member of his body seemed to shake; he gave his text indistinctly, and almost inaudibly; and it was only as he proceeded that his tones rose, and he became colloquial or humorous. He had the art of instantly arresting the attention of his hearers; and as he seemed to address them from the fervour of his own feelings, he often produced a strong effect on theirs. His action, too, though often ludicrously distorted, would, sometimes, when he leant forward on the sconces of the pulpit, become truly graceful and dignified."

ADAM CLARKE.

of memory, he added but little to his previous acquirements for a considerable time. At length, he felt a brief, but violent sensation, in his head, "as though some part of his brain had burst or exploded;" and from that moment he is described as having pursued his studies with uncommon success.

ADAM CLARKE was born at Mag-perception, and lamentable weakness herafelt, about thirty miles from Londonderry, in 1763; and acquired the rudiments of learning under the tuition of his mother. He displayed considerable aptitude for study, and had made some progress in the classics, when his father, who was a schoolmaster, placed him in the linen manufactory of a Mr. Bennett. A mechanical occupation being, however, uncongenial to his disposition, he soon obtained leave to quit his master, and devoted the whole of his attention to religious subjects. At the age of sixteen, he commenced preaching to small congregations of the poor; and, shortly afterwards, obtained the notice and patronage of John Wesley, who brought him to England, and employed him as an assistant, in the school which he had then recently established at Kingswood, near Bristol. The treatment he received from the head master is said to have been neither encouraging nor courteous; and partly on this account, but principally owing to an extraordinary obtuseness of

In 1782, Wesley appointed him an itinerant preacher. He commenced his labours at Penzance, whence he proceeded to Bristol, Liverpool, Jersey, and various other places, tending materially, wherever he went, by his talents and zeal, to the augmentation of his sect. In the performance of his duties, he appears to have suffered much from the persecution and violence to which the Wesleyan itinerants in general were, for a long period, exposed; but his temper and courage enabled him to triumph over all the difficulties of his station, and he gradually became one of the most eminent and influential preachers in the connexion.

On one

occasion, after having been roughly expelled from the town of St. Hillier, in the island of Jersey, and threatened with death if he dared to preach there again, he determined, at all hazards, to make the attempt; and his zeal and intrepidity produced such an effect on his persecutors, that, instead of being visited with their vengeance, he obtained their applause.

Although particularly active in his vocation, he still prosecuted his studies with remarkable energy. About the year 1785, he began a most careful examination of the Septuagint, which, as he states, expanded and illumined his mind more than all the theological works he had ever consulted.

Some

years afterwards, he undertook a translation of the Bible; and such was the rapidity of his progress, that he completed his Old Testament in the short space of fourteen months; having, during that period, as he states, not only translated every sentence of Hebrew and Chaldee, but compared and examined all the original texts and versions, especially the Samaritan, Chaldee, Targums, Septuagint, and Vulgate. He next commenced his remarks on the Four Gospels, which he concluded in a year and a half; and, proceeding to the consideration of the other books in the sacred volume, gradually completed his admirable Commentary on the Bible; in addition to which, he has published a Bibliographical Dictionary, in six volumes; A Concise View of the Succession of Sacred Literature; The Bibliographical Miscellany, in two volumes; A Translation of Sturm's Reflections; A Treatise on the Use and Abuses of Tobacco; an edition of Fleury's Manners of the Ancient Israelites; Harmer's Observations; Butterworth's Concordance; Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress; &c. He

has also written, but not published, a narrative of Porson's last illness; and contributed, anonymously, to the pages of many periodicals and miscellanies.

As

In figure, Dr. Clarke is tall and commanding; his voice possesses more strength than melody; his style is copious but not elegant; and his manner impressive though not animated. a preacher, he seeks to convince rather than to excite; and, as an author, to edify rather than to delight. As a commentator, he displays great erudition; and, though occasionally fanciful, he is, on the whole, eminently instructive. On account of his biblical learning, and scientific acquirements, he has obtained a diploma of LL. D., and honorary degrees from various scientific societies. The Wesleyan methodists have evinced their respect for his merits, by choosing him president at three of their conferences; and the members of the British and Foreign Bible Society are said to entertain a deep feeling of gratitude towards him for the zeal and diligence with which he has constantly promoted the diffusion of the Gospel. Although so voluminous a writer, he has constantly discharged, in a most exemplary manner, all his active duties as a divine. Even when engaged on his laborious commentary, he is said to have continued

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preaching publicly, and from house to house." He was enabled to do this by his constant habits of "rising early, and late taking rest; avoiding all visits of ceremony, and journeys of mere pleasure and recreation; restricting himself to the most wholesome diet and temperate beverage, and not allowing unnecessary intrusions on his time."

Dr. Clarke was married early in life, and has had several children, one of whom is a clergyman of the established church.

ROBERT HALL.

THIS eminent preacher, the son of a respectable Baptist minister, was born at Arnesby, in Leicestershire, on the 2nd of May, 1764. He received the early part of his education at Northampton

school, whence he was removed to a Baptist theological seminary at Bristol, where he rendered himself conspicuous by his talents and industry. His extraordinary abilities were more fully

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