manifest. And such was his prevailing cheerfulness that he seemed to move and breathe in an atmosphere of hilarity, which indeed his countenance always indicated, except when the pain in his back affected his spirits, and caused his imagination to dwell upon the evils of Cambridgeshire scenery.

This was, in his case, far from a hypothetical grievance. It seriously diminished his happiness at Cambridge, and at length was the main cause of his quitting it. In one of my early interviews with him, before I had been a month at that place, he said to me, "What do you think of Cambridge, sir?"-"It is a very interesting place."-"Yes, the place where Bacon, and Barrow, and Newton studied, and where Jeremy Taylor was born, cannot but be interesting. But that is not what I mean; what do you say to the scenery, sir?"-" Some of the public buildings are very striking, and the college walks very pleasing; but-" and there I hesitated: he immediately added, "But there is nothing else to be said. What do you think of the surrounding country, sir? Does not it strike you as very insipid?"" No, not precisely so." Ay, ay: I had forgotten; you come from a flat country; yet you must love hills; there are no hills here." I replied, "Yes, there are; there are Madingley hill, and the Castle hill, and Gogmagog hill." This amused him exceedingly, and he said, "Why, as to Madingley, there is something in that; it reminds you of the Cottons, and the Cottonian Library; but that is not because Madingley is a high hill, but because Sir Robert Cotton was a great man; and even he was not born there. Then, as to your second example, do you know that the Castle hill is the place of the public executions? that is no very pleasant association, sir; and as to your last example, Gogmagog hill is five miles off, and many who go there are puzzled to say whether it is natural or artificial. "Tis a dismally flat country, sir; dismally flat.* Ely is twelve miles distant, but the road from Cambridge thither scarcely deviates twelve inches from the same level; and that's not very interesting. Before I came to Cambridge I had read in the prize poems, and in some other works of fancy, of the banks of the Cam,' of the sweetly flowing stream,' and so on; but when I arrived here I was sadly disappointed. When I first saw the river as I passed over King's College Bridge, I could not help exclaiming, Why, the stream is standing still to see people drown themselves! and that, I am sorry to say, is a permanent feeling with me." I questioned the correctness of this impression, but he immediately rejoined," Shocking place for the spirits, sir; İ wish you may not find it so; it must be the very focus of suicides. Were you ever at Bristol, sir? there is scenery, scenery worth looking upon, and worth thinking of: and so there is even at Aberdeen, with all its surrounding barrenness. The trees on the banks of the Don are as fine as those on the banks of the Cam; and the river is alive, sir; it falls over precipices, and foams and dashes, so as to invigorate and inspire those who witness it. The Don is a river, sir, and the Severn is a river; but not even a poet would so designate the Cam, unless by an obvious figure he termed it the sleeping river."

The semi-playful and rapid manner in which he uttered things of this

On Mr. Hall's last visit to Cambridge, one of his friends took him out for a morning's ride, and showed him the improvements as to cultivation, by means of new enclosures, &c. "True," said he, but still there is that odious flatness, that insipid sameness of scenery all around." Then, with a tone of great seriousness, he added, "I always say of my Cambridge friends, when I witness their contentedness in such a country, Herein is the faith and patience of the saints! My faith and patience could not sustain me under it, with the unvarying kindness of my friends in addition." On another morning ride his companion said, "Look at these fields, with the crops of corn so smooth and so abundant; are not they pleasant? and do they not excite the idea of plenty ?" He rejoined, with his usual promptness, "Oh! yes; and so does a large meal-tub filled to the brim. But I was not thinking of plenty, but of beauty."

kind, did not always conceal the deep feeling of incurable and growing dislike with which he was struggling.

When I first became known to Mr. Hall, he had recently determined to revise and extend his knowledge in every department, "to re-arrange the whole furniture of his mind, and the economy of his habits," and to become a thorough student. He proposed devoting six hours a day to reading; but these, unless his friends sought after him, were often extended to eight or nine. He thought himself especially defective in a tasteful and critical acquaintance with the Greek poets; and said he should "once more begin at the beginning." He set to work, therefore, upon the best treatises on the Greek metres then extant. He next read the Iliad and Odyssey twice over, critically; proceeded with equal care through nearly all the tragedies of Sophocles and Euripides; and thence extended his classical reading in all directions. To the Latin and Greek poets, orators, historians, and philosophers he devoted a part of every day, for three or four years. He studied them as a scholar, but he studied them also as a moralist and a philosopher; so that, while he appreciated their peculiarities and beauties with his wonted taste, and carefully improved his style of writing and his tone of thinking, by the best models which they present, he suffered them not to deteriorate the accuracy of his judgment in comparing their value with that of the moderns. Perhaps, however, this assertion should be a little qualified : for, not only at the period of which I am now speaking, but, in great measure, through life, while he spoke of the Greek and Latin poetry in accordance with the sentiments and feelings of every competent classical scholar, he, with very few exceptions, unduly depreciated the poetry of the present times.

Much as he delighted in classical literature, he was by no means inclined, nor could he have reconciled it with his notions of duty, to circumscribe his reading within its limits. The early Christian fathers, the fathers of the Reformation, the theological writers, both puritan and episcopalian, of the seventeenth century, the most valuable authors on all similar topics down to the present time, including the most esteemed French preachers, were all perused with his characteristic avidity: what was most valuable in them became fixed in his unusually retentive memory; and numerous marginal and other references in the most valuable of his books prove at once the minuteness and closeness of his attention, and his desire to direct his memory to the substances of thought, and not unnecessarily to load it with mere apparatus.

Like many other men of letters, Mr. Hall, at this period, found the advantage of passing from one subject to another at short intervals, generally of about two hours: thus casting off the mental fatigue that one subject had occasioned by directing his attention to another, and thereby preserving the intellect in a state of elastic energy from the beginning to the end of the time devoted daily to study.

Not long after he had entered upon this steady course of reading, he commenced the study of Hebrew, under Mr. Lyons, who then taught that language in the university. He soon became a thorough proficient in it; and, finding it greatly to increase his knowledge of the Old Testament, as well as of its relation to the New, and considerably to improve and enlarge the power of Scripture interpretation, he, from thence to the close of life, suffered scarcely a day to pass without reading a portion of the Old Testament in the original. This practice flowed naturally from one of his principles of action, namely, to go to the fountain-head for information, rather than to derive it from the streams; and from the continued application of that principle, it was found that his habit of reading originals often impaired the accuracy of his quota

tion of passages from our authorized version, having, in fact, become more familiar with the Hebrew and Greek texts than with any translation. This, which was often conjectured by some of his hearers at Cambridge, was amply confirmed by the subsequent observation of his intimate and much esteemed friend Mr. Ryley, at Leicester.

It would be useless to record, even briefly, Mr. Hall's opinions of the numerous authors, ancient and modern, which he read at this period with such close attention, since they accord generally with those of all men of correct taste and sound judgment. Yet perhaps I may state, with regard to his chief uninspired favourite among the Greek writers, that to none of the ornaments of pagan antiquity did he refer in such terms of fervid eulogy as to Plato. Not Cudworth himself could appreciate him more highly. He often expressed his astonishment at the neglect into which he apprehended the writings of Plato were sinking; and said, that an entire disregard of them would be an irrefragable proof of a shallow age. Milton, he remarked, gave the noblest proofs, in his prose writings, of a knowledge and love of Plato; and he expressed a surprise, almost bordering upon contempt, in reference to those who classed this wonderful man with the schoolmen. It was his frequent remark, that even when Plato wrote upon the most abstract subjects, whether moral, metaphysical, or mathematical, his style was as clear as the purest stream, and that his diction was deeply imbued with the poetic spirit. On occasions when he ran no risk of the charge of pedantry, he would, by appropriate quotations, confirm these views. He delighted to expatiate upon this philosopher's notions of vice and virtue, of idleness and industry; and often adduced the Platonic definition of education, as "that which qualifies men to be good citizens, and renders them fit to govern or to obey." On one occasion he pointed to a passage, in the first Republic, I think, from which it appeared that Plato perceived the advantages resulting from the subdivision of labour, and suggested the natural progress of such subdivision in proportion to the advance of civilization.

In speaking of this philosopher, Mr. Hall illustrated his view of the evil of studying a Greek author with the aid of a Latin version, by a reference to Serranus's magnificent edition of his works, in the Latin version of which he said he had often detected errors. He also mentioned a ridiculous blunder of one of the English translators, who had, it seems, availed himself of a Latin version, in which, as was customary two or three hundred years ago, the omission of an m or an n was indicated by a bar placed over the preceding letter. Disregarding this superposed bar, the translator had read hirudo instead of hirundo, and thus, upon Plato's authority, declared the horse-leech, instead of the swallow, to be the harbinger of the spring!

I have dwelt rather longer upon these topics than would be at all necessary, were it not to correct the notion which some persons have entertained, that Mr. Hall was indolent, and that though when stimulated to the effort, he would exert himself as a profound thinker, yet he was not a man of research, or, in the ordinary acceptation, a good scholar. When Mr. Hall proposed that we should devote an hour every morning to reading together, he asked me to assist him in his mathematical studies, adding that as a matter of mutual advantage, it might be well that, on alternate mornings, I should be his mathematical tutor, and he my instructer in metaphysics. To this proposal I gladly assented; and it has long been my persuasion that the scheme flowed in great measure from his desire to call my attention to general literature, and especially to the science of mind.

At that period, though he was strong and active, he often suffered

extremely from the pain to which I have before adverted, and which was his sad companion through life. On entering his room to commence our reading, I could at once tell whether or not his night had been refreshing; for, if it had, I found him at the table, the books to be studied ready, and a vacant chair set for me. If his night had been restless, and the pain still continued, I found him lying on the sofa, or more frequently upon three chairs, on which he could obtain an easier position. At such seasons, scarcely ever did a complaint issue from his lips; but, inviting me to take the sofa, our reading commenced. They, however, who knew Mr. Hall can conjecture how often, if he became interested, he would raise himself from the chairs, utter a few animated expressions, and then resume the favourite reclining posture. Sometimes, when he was suffering more than usual, he proposed a walk in the fields, where, with the appropriate book as our companion, we could pursue the subject. If he was the preceptor, as was commonly the case in these peripatetic lectures, he soon lost the sense of pain, and nearly as soon escaped from our author, whoever he might be, and expatiated at large upon some train of inquiry or explication which our course of reading had suggested. As his thoughts enkindled, both his steps and his words became quicker, until, ere long, it was difficult to say whether the body or the mind were brought most upon the stretch in keeping up with him. This peculiarity I have noticed in a few other men of vigorous intellect and lively imagination.

Mr. Hall's avowed object in recurring at all to his mathematical studies was, the acquisition of so much geometry, trigonometry, and conic sections as would enable him thoroughly to comprehend the entire scope of the reasoning in Maclaurin's Account of Sir Isaac Newton's Philosophical Discoveries." For this, indeed, his college studies had in a great measure prepared him; and there would have been but little to learn, could he have been satisfied to proceed as students often do. But it was not in his nature to advance, unless he ascertained the firmness of the ground at every step. He reasoned philosophically, for instance, upon the nature of ratios and proportions; so that we had to clear our way through the recondite lectures of Barrow relative to those points, before we could advance to trigonometry. His logical habits, also, made him very reluctant to pass over any geometrical proposition in which he could not trace the analysis as well as the synthesis. In this manner, and with such views, we went through the proposed course. Of what utility all this was ultimately to Mr. Hall I cannot precisely say; but I can testify that it was of permanent advantage to his mathematical preceptor, who had not previously formed the habit of tracing apparent results to their foundations; but who, from that period, pursued science with a new interest, kept his eye more steadily upon ultimate principles, and learned to value such researches quite as much for their intellectual discipline as for their practical benefit."

In reference to the philosophy of mind, after we had gone slightly over Locke's Essay, his Conduct of the Understanding, and Watts's Ontology, which I had read before, we studied Berkeley, Wollaston,

Shortly after my removal to Woolwich, I invited my late valued friend Dr. Hutton to dine with Mr. Hall at my house. Mr. Hall, for the purpose of drawing the doctor into conversation, asked him a few questions suggested by some of Barrow's disquisitions in reference to mathematical measure, and its application to force, momentum, &c. They essentially involved the metaphysics of the subjects of inquiry. He also expatiated upon the imaginative as well as the rational process involved in the genesis of curves by motion, as taught by Barrow and Newton. The next day Dr. Hutton said to me, "What an extraordinary man that friend of yours is! Why, he was born to be a mathematician. If you could persuade him to give himself up to the sciences, as Priestley did, ho would teach us all something."

Hartley, Andrew Baxter, Reid, some portions of Bacon's Essays, and of his Treatise on the Advancement of Learning; or rather, I should say, I had the advantage of learning what was most or least valuable in each and all of these, from this admirable living_commentator. We were about to proceed to Search's (Abraham Tucker's) "Light of Nature," when some circumstances, which I cannot recall to mind, rendered it inconvenient for us thus to meet, and brought these delightful readings and commentaries to a close. We did not then go through any of Dugald Stewart's works, Mr. Hall regarding him as an elegant expositor of Reid, but greatly inferior in originality. From Bacon's Essays he used to read passages aloud, with the warmest expressions of commendation.

I must not omit to specify, as a peculiarity in the structure of Mr. Hall's mind, that although in every important case he detected, and placed in the utmost prominence, an essential defect in the reasoning, a too rapid generalization, or any other unwarrantable deduction, that occurred in Berkeley, or Watts, or Hartley, he was very slow to perceive, very reluctant to admit, any such in the writings of Andrew Baxter. The reader who is conversant with such speculations will recollect, that in the second volume of Baxter's book on "the Soul," he affirms that our dreams are prompted by separate immaterial beings, and defends his theory with much ingenuity. As we advanced in Baxter's arguments, Mr. Hall exclaimed, "This is very beautiful, sir;. yet I apprehend there must be some flaw in the reasoning." I suggested one or two objections; he showed immediately that they could not apply. On our next meeting he accosted me with, "Well, sir, have you detected any fallacy in Baxter's theory?"-" Yes, I think I have." This, however, was soon disposed of, and then another, and another. I at length referred to Dugald Stewart's theory, after examining which, he said, "I do not think this is tenable; but I suppose it must be admitted that Baxter does not quite make out his case. Yet he was a man of great acumen-why did the Scotch philosophers run him down so ?" Still further to illustrate Mr. Hall's character, his turn of thought and expression, I will now bring together a few such incidents and short remarks, occurring between 1796 and 1803, as present themselves most vividly to my mind.

It will already have appeared that benevolence was a prevailing characteristic. When he had aided a poor man to the full extent of his own pecuniary means, he would sometimes apply to one of his affluent friends. "Poor is in great distress: some of his family are ill, and he cannot supply proper necessaries. Lend me five shillings for the poor fellow: I will pay you again in a fortnight, unless in the mean time you find that the case deserves your help, and then the donation shall become yours."

His disapprobation of avarice bore a natural relation to his own benevolence. Being informed that a rich man in the neighbourhood, who was by no means celebrated for his liberality, had attended to a tale of distress without relieving it, he said, "Yes, yes: he would listen, but without inclining his head. He may lend a distant ear to the murmurings from the vale beneath, but he remains like a mountain covered with perpetual snow."

On another occasion, a person talking to him of one whom they both knew, and who was very penurious, said, "Poor wretch! you might put his soul into a nutshell.”—“Yes, sir,” Mr. Hall replied, "and even then it would creep out at a maggot hole."

His love of sincerity in words and actions was constantly apparent. Once, while he was spending an evening at the house of a friend, a lady who was there

* Mr. Hall characterized this as a work in which the noblest philosophy was brought down by s master-hand, and placed within the reach of every man of sound understanding.

VOL. III.-3