much ideal models ought to be combined with experience; how much of the future should be let into the present, in the progress of the human mind. To ennoble and purify without raising us above the sphere of our usefulness; to qualify us for what we ought to seek, without unfitting us for that to which we must submit; are great and difficult problems, which can be but imperfectly solved. "It is certain the child may be too manly, not only for his present enjoyment, but for his future progress. Perhaps, my good friend, you have fallen into this error of superior natures; from this error has, I think, arisen the calamity with which it has pleased Providence to chasten you, which, to a mind less fortified with reason and religion, I should not dare to mention, but which I really consider in you as little more than the indignant struggle of a pure mind with the base realities which surround it-the fervent aspirations after regions more congenial to it-and a momentary blindness produced by the fixed contemplation of objects too bright for human vision. I may say in this case, in a far grander sense than that in which the words were originally spoken by the great poet "And yet the light which led astray was light from Heaven.' "On your return to us, you must surely have found consolation in the only terrestrial produce which is pure and truly exquisite; in the affections and attachments which you have inspired, and which you were most worthy to inspire, and which no human pollutions can rob of their heavenly nature. If I were to prosecute the reflections, and indulge the feelings, which at this moment fill my mind, I should soon venture to doubt whether, for a calamity derived from such a source, and attended with such consolations, I should yield so far to the views and opinions of men, as to seek to condole with you. But I check myself, and I exhort you, my most worthy friend, to check your best propensities, for the sake of obtaining their object. "You cannot live for men, without living with } them. Serve God by the active service of men. Contemplate more the good you can do, than the evil which you can only lament. Allow yourself to see the great loveliness of human virtue, amidst all its imperfections; and employ your moral imagination not so much by bringing it into contrast with the model of ideal perfection, as in gently blending some of the fairer colours of the latter with the brighter hues of real experienced excellence; thus heightening the beauty instead of broadening the shade which must surround us till we waken from this dream on other spheres of existence. My habits of life have not been favourable to this train of meditation. I have been too busy or too trifling. My nature perhaps would have been better consulted if I had been placed in a quieter station, where speculation might have been my business, and visions of the fair and good my chief recreation. "When I approach you, I feel a powerful attraction towards this, which seems the natural destiny of my mind; but habit opposes obstacles, and duty calls me off, and reason frowns on him who wastes that reflection on a destiny, independent of him, which he ought to reserve for actions of which he is the master. "In another letter I may write to you on miscellaneous subjects; at present I cannot bring myself to speak of them. Let me hear from you soon and often. "Farewell! my dear friend, "Yours ever most faithfully, In the month of November following, which was about seven months after Mr. Hall's first confinement, he was suddenly visited again with his awful malady. There were not the previous indications as in his former illness. On the Sabbath, which was our sacrament day, he absented himself from the morning service. One of the members prayed, and Mr. W. Hollick, the deacon, read a sermon. After service, inquiries were made, a consultation was held, but nothing could be ascertained; we had but little doubt, however, from his previous punctuality, that he was ill at Foulmire. Our fears were unhappily realized. He entered the meeting in the afternoon about ten minutes after the time. As he walked up the aisle, he turned to look at the clock. I knew by the wildness of his appearance, that it was all over. He went into the vestry, from thence, with a hurried step, into the pulpit. He gave out the hymn, read the Scriptures, and prayed very coherently, but in a strange and hurried manner. He then gave out the second hymn, and selected for his text Heb. xii. 2: Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith; who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God. He appeared tolerably collected till he commenced the second part of the subject:—The particular seasons in which it was peculiarly necessary to look unto Jesus. The first was in the period of temptation, under satanic influence-" for that there is a devil," said he, "who, as a roaring lion, goeth about seeking whom he may devour, is as true from the word of God as that there is a God. I say there is a devil, and there are many devils." Then he became quite incoherent. The effect on his audience cannot be described; we looked one to another with surprise, not knowing what to do. As a junior, I looked to the senior deacons, expecting that one of them would go to the pulpit and request him to come down; but the general feeling was-let him alone. In a few minutes, he recovered himself, raised his hand to his forehead, stopped, and said, “My friends, I beg pardon, my head is very bad this afternoon" dropped the subject of temptation, went on with the other division of his subject connectedly, and 1 closed; gave out the third hymn, and concluded with prayer and the benediction. The place was crowded; there were more young noblemen, fellow-commoners, and undergraduates, who witnessed the scene, than I ever remember to have seen before or since. He immediately came down, and went into the vestry; no one went to him, not knowing what to do, as it was ordinance day. The congregation had dispersed; the members of the church waited in silent suspense. He ordered the cloth to be laid, and the elements to be brought out as usual; then entered the table-seat more composed, and administered the sacrament to us in a solemn and collected manner-pronounced the benediction, and dismissed us. Just as we were leaving our seats he called out vehemently, "Stop! stop! my friends; I have something very important to communicate to you. I have to inform you that the Millennium is come;-that period which we have been waiting for, hoping for, and praying for so long, is at length come; let us all kneel down and bless God that we have lived to see this day." He then offered up a prayer, in a strain of the wildest sublimity. On his return from the meeting, he saw in the gateway of the Castle Inn, one of his old members, named Thurlbone. "Ah, Master Thurlbone, how do you do? Be faithful unto death, be faithful unto death, and you shall have a crown of life." This the good old man, (who did not live to see Mr. Hall again) said was as a voice continually sounding in his ears. When Mr. Hall recovered, |