Departure for Madeira, Residence There

On Saturday, 28th October 1837, Mr Halley sailed from Glasgow, accompanied by his sister. His route was from the Clyde to Dublin, and thence to Falmouth, the station of the packet to Brazil. We insert, from a letter to his &ther, a brief account of these first stages of the journey.

* Falmouth, 4th November 1837.

‘My dear Father, — I ought certainly to have written you yesterday, as I promised to write immediately on arriving here, and we got ashore yesterday morning. But I was very much knocked up with our voyage, and thought I would be better able to do it after a night’s repose.

‘We have much cause, then, I am happy to say, for thankfulness, on account of the state in which we have been enabled to finish this first part of our voyage. We reached Dublin on Sabbath morning, having been twenty-six hours on board the Mercury. Janet was very sick. I got to my berth before it reached that point with me, and was happily preserved. The steamer was very full; and the heat in our berths was almost suffocating. But a little fresh air on Sabbath morning (which was a shining one) set us all right again, and we got ashore in tolerably good tspirits. By the stewards advice, we went to the “Imperial Hotel,” which he said was good and very moderate. We found, however, that his views of moderation differed from ours. Nevertheless, we were certainly very comfortable. On Monday, it rained so much, that we could do no more than take our places in Wednesday’s steamer for Falmouth; but on Tuesday we had a good clear sky, and saw a little of Dublin. After Edinburgh, it did not greatly please us

‘On Wednesday we left Dublin by a car for Kings town, where we were to find out steamer for Falmouth. An exquisitely Irish scene occurred at the harbour, — three or four boatmen trying severally to make a prize of us. Janet promises you a full description of them, in a journal of remarkable incidents, which she is always vigorously threatening to commence, but has never yet actually begun

‘Our fellow-passengers in the Leeds (for that was our vessel’s name) were just two students of Trinity College, Dublin, with whom, duiing daylight on Wednesday, I had much interesting chat. One of them, named Johns, turned out to be a botanist, and a correspondent of Sir William Hooker. On Wednesday night it became rough, and on Thursday blew a storm. We were all in our berths tolerably sick; but, through a port-hole, I could see the waves a good way above the paddle-boxes. Though very inferior in accommodation, the steamer proved an excellent seaboat. We got round the Land’s End about midnight on Thursday; at half-past one we passed the Lizard lights; at four, we lay to at the mouth of Falmouth harbour, waiting for the day; and at eight, by advice of Mr Johns, who came on shore along with us, we stepped on board a nice four-oared boat, which came out to see if any of the passengers chose to put up at the Green Bank. I took care to make sure, by inquiry, that the charges were more moderate than those of the Imperial; and we see every prospect of being comfortable for the next week. When I first came ashore I was very much exhausted, every bone and muscle being racked by lying on my back so long, under such fearful pitching; but a good breakfast and a tepid bath set me much to rights. I now cough little. The weather, though cold yesterday, was mild to-day; and Janet and I had a very pleasant walk of nearly

two hours

‘During Thursday night, when we were at sea, other steamers were putting back into Falmouth through stress of weather. I iftention this, that you may join in thanksgiving to Him who sitteth on the floods, for our safe arrival. God wilUng, our vessel sails next Friday at ten. You will remember us then, and we will not forget you. Of course, we shall write whenever we can; and meanwhile, praying that every good thing may rest and sbide on you, — I am your ever affectionate son, J. H/

The following short extract is interesting, as indicating the tone of his mind when on the eve of departing from his native land. The letter is addressed to a gentleman in the south of Scotland.

‘Falmouth, 8«ft November 1837. ‘My dear Sir, — I can really hardly see any right that I have to inflict a letter on you from so great a distance. My apology must be, that, having been unable, from the vast amount of things I had to do, to write you, as I promised, from Glasgow, this is the next best measure to which I can resort. So busy was I while at home, and so occupied with the kind visits of friends, that, for days together, I really had not ten minutes which I could call my own. Now, however, in the solitude (for such it is to me) of an English inn, and just waiting the sailing of the Madeira packet, I remind myself of Prometheus, when his being bound gave him time enough, and to spare, to tell the Oceanides his story: —

‘Our places are taken in the packet — the

“Lyra,” Captain Forrester; and on Friday next, at 10 A,M., probably before you receive this, we shall be once more on the “glad waters of the dark-blue sea,”

‘I do not go without hope of recovery, though I am far from sanguine. My right lung, it seems, is a good deal wasted; but the case is not worse than others to which Madeira has been beneficial. Yet there is no doubt but I am every day getting perceptibly thinner. I now know a little, through increasing weakness, of their state, to whom the grasshopper is a burden. Still, there has been something so providential in the outset of this voyage, that I feel disposed to trust and not be afraid of its issue. ^’ If he had meant to kill me, would he have shown me all these things?” I am sure, at all events, I find a place in the prayers of not a few; may I say, also, in yours? Let me hint to you that I feel especial need, — besides the fimdamental blessing of a secure interest in the Saviour, — of submission to the Divine will, and of the spirit of adoption.

‘Be much in asking these for me; and believe me to be, with every good wish for time and eternity, very sincerely yours, J. H.*

‘Bev. J, Whitelaw:

While the invalid was hovering on the verge of his native land, waiting for the ship that should waft him away, it might be for ever, the current of his thoughts naturally ran back toward home and past enjoyments. Among the cherished objects that busy memory presented then, the Sabbath class seems to have been the most attractive. A pastoral address, written at Falmouth, and sent to his adult class at Glasgow, ha been preserved, and we gladly insert it here. It is a valuable document, and we present it entire.

* Faimouth, 9th November 1837.

‘My dear Friends, — It is not unlikely that I now address you for the last time. The disease which has compelled me to go to a foreign country in search of some relief, is one from whose grasp very few escape; and even should God work out for me so great and unusual a deliverance, and restore me to the place of my birth, there will lie on me so enormous and accumulated an obligation to enter on some labour in his Church, that I can scarcely expect again to raise my voice among you. We stand, then, to each other, in circumstances of no common solemnity. And I feel, that, in this position, I should fail in dutt/^ did I not try to give once more to the truths of the Gospel all the impressiveness which our altered condition may impart to them, and to speak to you of the things of your peace, as one who enters to-morrow on a voyage, from which his first haven may be in eternity. Nor can I think that I mix too much of human feeling with my thoughts on these high topics, when I tell you, that I would have felt a want of some reasonable and heartfelt enjoyment if I had not, at this season, sent my affections back to that little scene of “opening the Scriptures,” which was long one of their most cherished and sacred abodes.

‘And now, my dear friends, in looking back deliberately to our intercourse, as far as it regarded the word of truth, I cannot see that I have now any other Gospel to declare to you, than that which, in much weakness, I formerly endeavoured to unfold. These are my firm and unaltered convictions, — and I trust will be so to my dying hour, — founded, as I believe them to be, on the Holy Scriptures: that we are all lost and ruined, both in Adam and in ourselves; that

LETTER TO SABBATH CLASS’* 125

God, in free and sovereign mercy, hath found out a ransom; that Christ hore our sins in his own body on the tree; that the benefits of his mediation are apprehended and received by faith; that this grace, along with all the elements of a new obedience, is the gift of the Holy Ghost; that that good and free Spirit is given to all who ask him; and that, having begun in them a good work, He will carry it on, in spite of all difficulties and temptations, — impart to them strength according to their day, — cleanse them at last from every spot and speck of earthliness, — and fit them for the pure and holy society of the kingdom that cannot be moved.

‘This glorious salvation is in the oflFer of every one of you. And I trust some of you know what it is to have embraced it as their own; and have seen enough of the vnretcfaedness of nature, and the freeness of grace, and the fulness that is in Christ, — to make them give themselves up, soul and body, to that beseeching Saviour, and lay hold of the everlasting covenant, and labour, by a holy walk, to prove themselves the disciples of a holy Master. One thing, my beloved friends, is certain, that through this process evey one of us must pass, ere we can become partakers of the inheritance. This is the gate through which alone we can ever enter into the heavenly city. “Open ye the gates” is the divine proclamation. be persuaded to pass within: “Salvation hath God appointed for walls and bulwarks.”

‘But ye need not that I thus remind you what be the first principles of the oracles of God. Let me rather take for granted, that you know and are convinced of the absolute necessity of faith; and let me insist upon the desirableness of having something farther, — even a comfortable belief and confidence that this faith has indeed been wrought in you. Many, doubtless, of those who are God’s children, walk in darkness as to their acceptance with him, and have no

light on the evidences of their calling. Many maj be saved, as by fire, without enjoying the sense of the Divine favour here, until it fully burst on them hereafter. But this is always their sorrow; and th cry is, “O when wUt thou come unto me?” “Show us thy mercy, O God;” “O visit me with thy salvation, that I may glory with thine inheritance.” They recognise it as a fault in themselves, that they cannot confidently say, *•’ Abba, Father;” and they long to be delivered from this spirit of bondage. And there can be no reasonable doubt, that, if we have faith at all, it is possible to make it out by its appropriate marks and symptoms. Otherwise, how should Peter exhort believers to make sure of their calling and election; or Paul speak so confidently of his Hebrews as partakers of the heavenly calling; or our Lord command his disciples to rejoice that their names were written in heaven? There is a way of ascertaining that our state is secure; and doubly blessed are they who have found it. They have the security; and have the comfort of feeling iti But, if we lazily rest without “giving all diligence” not merely to fix this great point, but to ascertain it, — then, indeed, we may be safe; it is barely possible we may; but we do not know it; and eternity is to us all uncertain. For a time we may walk quietly, and solace ourselves in a general and easy belief in our state; but, unless we have ascertained on Scripture texts (such as, *’ 3y their iruits ye shall know them”), our personal interest in Christ, — our peace will be, if I may so speak, at the mercy of every wind. And oh! to think of our sore amazement, if it be found to fail us when we most need it; if, in the near prospect of death, we can only fiaintly hope but cannot say,” I know whom ‘I have believed/* Dearly beloved, laboiu* after the frame of mind which these words of Paul express. Seek scripturally and earnestly for the marks of a work of grace within you. And God grant that all of you may find them, — not worthless counterfeits — but the genuine fruit of the Spirit, in all goodness, and righteousness, and truth. Finallj, dear friends, farewell. I commend you to God. The God of all grace, who hath called us unto his eternal glorj bj Christ Jesus, after that ye have suflered a while, make you perfect, stablish, strengthen, settle you. To him be glory and dominion fox ever and ever. Amen. So prays your sincere friend, J. H.’

The first letter written by Mr Halley from Madeira, containing an account of his voyage and arrival, never reached its destination. This want will be, in some measure, made up by extracts from other letters written soon after.

* FuNCHAL, Madeira, Saturday, 25th Nov. 1837. * My dear Father, — .... Our last letter left us in the British hotel, — the only one, be it observed, in the cit of Funchal. The house is huge, but nothing near half furnished; and there was such a famine of blankets, that we had to be indebted to our fellowpajssenger, Mrs O., for some of her ship-bedding, before we could be comfortably put up at night. Yet we had good enough living, though served up in rather an outlandish style by a little Portuguese waiter clad in white from head to foot, — barring always the butter, which, in Madeira, is shockingly bad. Our waiter, being in a British hotel, of course pretended to speak English, and made many desperate efforts, both to speak and to understand it; his puzzlement and ours sometimes was extreme; and we foimd out, by and by, that the only feasible way of getting any thing was, not to order it once, and in few words as at home, but to send Mr W. O., who is a most patient painstaking mortal, out to the stair-head, and let him talk over the matter rationally with Enrique (or Henry, for that is his name). Still, all things considered, we

1 28 MEMOIR OF JAMtS HALLET.

were tolerably well; only it was a clear dutj to escape

from the “British” as soon as possible

You cannot imagine any thing more different than the country to which we have come, from that which we have left. In Glasgow you are now probably walking up to the knees in snow; or else Great Hamilton Street is one mass of mud. Here, with the exception of showers yesterday evening, and this forenoon, every day has been continued sunshine; on Thursday, at noon, it was as warm as I ever felt it at Tillicoultry. The thermometer has generally been 65 or 66 in the morning; and as high as 70 during the day; while you are starving down between 32 and 45. We have no fires — not even fire-places, in any apartment but the kitchen. And, although I sleep in blankets, the people in health, such as our friend Mr Small, are lying with no more than a sheet and coverlet. Straw hats, white trousers, and white boots, are the order of the day. The Portuguese oxen-drivers have just a white shirt, white trousers, generally one boot, and a queer nondescript kind of cap which just covers the crown of their heads; and these constitute their whole equipment. There are only four wheel-carriages on the island. The things which the oxen draw are sledges of the rudest construction, the driver carrying a wet cloth, which, every now and then, he throws down before the sledge to prevent the wood from catching fire, and make it slip more easily over the stones. The roads are all made of round stones from the brook, wrought together into a very hard causeway, very like those of some of the smaller towns in Scotland. I can imagine nothing rougher than it must be to ride over them. Yet I see that, if I am to get any exercise at all, I must frequwitly hire a horse. The island is just made up of rocky hills, with thin strata of soil, and you cannot go 100 yards in almost any direction without meeting a pretty steep ascent. It rises so abruptly out of the sea, that a

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seventy-four can ride within pistol shot of the shore all round the bay. I went out yesterday to what they call a pretty level walk, and found an inclination like that of High John Street. So my walks will necessarily be short; but I shall try to make them frequent; and sometimes I shall venture on a pony. Though the soil is thin, it is very productive; every inch is occupied; and the most parched looking spots, which we would reckon unfit for any thing, wave with sugar-canes, or glitter with oranges.

‘Of my health I cannot say much. The blister has certainly done much good, and has almost entirely removed the pain. The cough is much as when I left you. But I am beginning to flatter myself that ray food is nourishing me better. We cannot expect, as yet, any decided change; and our effort, repeated every hour, must be to wait the Lord’s pleasure — to be still, and know that he is God.... Mr Cadell offers to introduce me to two or three pious clergymen of the Church of England, who are here for health.

‘Last Sabbath we attended the English church, of which a Mr Lowe is minister. Nothing can be finer or more fragrant than the entrance to it, which is fringed on either hand with Fuschias and gigantic Heliotropes. The chapel is very neat, and well filled; the preaching very ordinary, and scarcely any psalmody at all.

‘And now, my dear father, with every good wish and prayer, I am your ever loving son, J. H.’

Soon after he was settled in Madeira, Mr Halley began to keep a diary more strictly religious than any thing he had hitherto attempted. It was begun on the 1st of January 1838, and regularly kept up while his health was adequate to the exertion. It begins with a very solemn act of dedication to God, It is

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not our province to start the question regarding the propriety or utility of such an act of covenantmg. We are not careful to inquire how many have been benefited by the use, and how many have been embarrassed by the abuse of it. Our object is, to exhibit the character of our departed friend as it was, and we are not at liberty to withhold a feature so important as the writing and adopting of such a covenant. We have already given a similar document written at an earlier period of his progress, and it will be interesting to compare it with that which we now present We insert it exactly as it stands in the journal; confident that such a clear, scriptural, ardent exhibition of a sinner s lost condition, and a sinner s only hope, is calculated to convey instruction, and administer reproof. There is first a kind of preface containing the reasons on which the resolution is grounded, and then the form of covenant itself.

* FuNCHAL, 1st January 1838.

’ “O Lord, our God, other lords besides thee have had dominion ovei us; but by thee only will we make mention of thy name!” — Isaiah xxvi. 13.

‘Up to this time I have never attempted to keep any thing that could be called a religious journal. 1 have kept records of study, with mingled notices of frames of spirit; but never a proper diary. This resulted, I confess with much humiliation, from the absence or feebleness of real spiritual concern. I could not bear to look into my own heart; still less to register its sinful wanderings; least of all, to have the record always beside me, and to be incessantly reminded by its presence of my utter vileness. I was too proud to be the chronicler of my own shortcomings; and too blind and heedless to see the benefit which might result irom the rememhronce even of failures and falls. (Psalm li. 2.)

‘But now, by God’s hand, eternity has been brought near me. With Job, I see that the grares are almost ready for me. And I trust that it is a work of divine grace, however feeble, that is now opening my eyes to the excellence of a scheme of Chnstian self-discipline so long and sinfully neglected.

The example of the most eminent believers were enough to stimulate to the attempt. And a remark of Cecil, that we would do well to note our views and feelings in sickness, for our future instruction, as they are sure soon to vanish, strikes me as peculiarly applicable to my present state. God’s chastening is upon me, under which even the careless pour forth a prayer. May he lead me by it to desires and meditations, which, if ever I recover, shall be profitable in the retrospect; and, if I die, shall, in the meantime, be filling me with good things.

* Unused, alas! to self-inspection, and prone to let my thoughts wander on the mountains of vanity, I shall probably for some time have little to record of my own feelings. But what I do notice, good or bad, I engage, for my own profit, and under a solemn sense of God’s presence, to preserve here. And I resolve, additionally, in dependence on the Spirit of grace, to strive every day to bring my mind to some such definite contemplation of divine things, as I can commit to this journal; and, generally, to find my theme in a verse of Scripture.

But, for this day, which, may God make much to be remembered in my eternal existence, I shall endeavour, by his help, to bind myself, in a written covenant, to be his. I do this, convinced that an explicit surrender of myself to God is both right, advantageous, and scriptural, — aright, as a due acknowledgment of his propriety in me, and his numberless mercies in providence and grace, — advantageous, as a means of reminding myself of my allegiance to him, a plea in prayer (Psalm lxxxvi. 16, cxix. 94), and a stay in trouble; as something which, in the hour of temptation, may be quoted against my corruptions — of darkness, against my doubts — of death, against assaults and fears; and scriptural, as Rom. vi. 13, xii. 1; 1 Cor. vi. 20; Gen. xxviii. 18-22, xxxv. 14; Josh. xxiv. 16’-27; Jer. 1. 4, 5; Isa. xliv. 5; and the institution of the Lord’s Supper, abundantly show.

‘Therefore, after a solemn, humble supplication for His presence and blessing, I do here, with full and deliberate consent of judgment and will, take the Lord for my God, and give myself wholly up to him.

2d January 1838.
‘FORM OF COVENANT.

‘Bow down thine ear, O Lord, hear me; for I am poor and needy. I have no plea, but my own want, and the infinite merits of thy Son. For his sake, and for thine own name’s sake, Lord, pardon mine iniquity for it is great; and turn not away my prayer, nor thy mercy from me.

* Lord, thou mightest justly long ago have shut the door of mercy, when I thought not of entering. Thou mightest have made me an example and monument of thy terrible omnipotent anger. For I have broken thy holy, just, and good law; by the very bent of my depraved nature; by the general current of my polluted, vain, and earthly thoughts; and by special acts of wilful and presumptuous transgression. In my daily walk I have been without thee; from my recreations I have excluded thee; in my speech I have not duly glorified thee, and maintained thy cause; in prosperity I have forgotten thee; in trouble I have not, heard the rod; opportunities of good I have squandered; thy Sabbaths I have abused; and by thy most melting calls I have been little, if at all, moved. ‘* Thou, even thou, art to be feared,” but I have not feared thee; thou “art to be had in reverence,” but I have not duly venerated thee; in thy name should men glory, but I have not made my boast in thee; to thee should every knee bow, but seldom, if ever, have I rightly worshipped thee! Above all, I have been guilty of refusing to hear Him whom thou hast commanded all men to hear — to believe on Him whom thou hast sent; of trampling under foot the Son of God; and, both before and since the time when I faintly endeavoured to come to Christ, of giieving and quenching the Spirit, when he spoke through my own conscience and thy most holy Word* And all this have I done against the sacred majesty of the everlasting God, — glorious in holiness, inflexible in justice, immutable in truth, in wisdom most adorable; in might most terrible; in goodness and mercy unwearied and abounding; against thine inconceivable love in the gift of thine only begotten Son; against the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ; against the influence and love of the Eternal Spirit.

* How transcendent, then, is that mercy which has continued me imto this day, — which has not cast me forth to wither and be burned; but even now permits me to close with God in Christ in the terms of the new, the better, the everlasting covenant. There He, in whom it is humility to behold the things that are done in heaven, deigns to set his heart upon man, and to bind himself in an engagement to dust and ashes.

‘Lord, with trembling, awful joy, I would lay hold of this thy condescension. I give myself from this hour to thee; be it unto me according to this word of thine, — “I will be your God.” I give myself to God the Father, as his rightful property, — his prodigal, but now returning son; to God the Son, as one of those lost ones whom he came to seek and to save, — a sinner needing to be washed in his precious blood, convinced there is no salvation in any other, and ear-^ nestly desiring to be clothed in his righteousness; and

to God the Spirit, as a depraved creature, to be by him renewed, sanctified, built up, and comforted. And I take the Father to be my God, as he is the God and Father of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ; the Son to be to me the way, and the truth, and the life, — to be my Prince and Saviour, shepherd, firiend, advocate, and forerunner within the vafl, — to deliver me from wTath, and prepare me a place in the house of many mansions; and the Spirit, as my light, teacher, and comforter, to prepare me for that place by his instruction, strengthening, and consolation. In particular, should God be pleased to lengthen my days, I give myself, soul, body and spirit, to Him in the work of the ministry, in reliance on His own abundant aids, desiring to be filled with the knowledge of his will in all wisdom and spiritual understanding, and to be strengthened with might by his Spirit in the inner man, that I may preach among sinners the unsearchable riches of Christ.

‘And will God in very deed accept and ratify this surrender? My goodness reacheth not unto thee; and though it did, all that is in the heaven and in the earth is thine; and it is only thine own I have given thee. And oh! how poor the oflFering! maimed, halt, and blind! a corrupt thing, to Him whose name is dreadful among the heathen!

‘But, O God of all mercy, may the altar sanctify the gift. It is through Christ I venture to perform this reasonable service. For his sake, take away all iniquity, receive me graciously, love me freely. Make with me now an everlasting covenant, and cause it to be all my salvation, and all my desire. Yes, Lord, thou despisest not any; thou wUt incline thine ear to hear me. May this covenant be recorded and sealed in the book of remembrance; as a swift witness against me if I recede from its terms, and a sweet encouragement to hold fast the confidence and the rejoicing of the hope firm unto the end. May it be applied by the Spirit, in gubserviency to the word of truth, as a mean of warning, strengthening, stablishing, reproving, reclaiming, comforting me; may it lead me habitually to view myself as holy unto the Lord; may it be a ready argument against any sinful compliance; and, in the hour of trouble or of death, may it be used as a blessed instrument of maintaining in me a cheerful confidence and humble resignation. May the thought, that I formally gave myself to God, repress every murmur at his sovereign disposals, and fill me with the elevating conviction, that all things, even death, are mine, — for God is mine.

‘And now. Lord, what wait I for? My hope is in thee. Accept me in the Beloved; and enable me, in simplicity and godly sincerity, to subscribe with my hand unto thee, according to the tenor of the foregoing covenant; wherein, if aught is wanting, do thou graciously supply it; if aught spoken unadvisedly, forgive it; and do for me exceeding abundantly above all that I ask or think: for the Redeemer s sake. Amen and Amen.

* FuNCHAL, 3<i January 1838.

‘I have now copied and read carefully over the preceding covenant. I believe it to be scriptural; and, imploring the blessing of God, I now sign it as his servant in Christ Jesus, on this 3d of January 1838.

‘James H alley.’

The entries during the month of January are almost daily, except when interrupted by severe illness. From these we shall present a continued series of extracts.

* 5th January 1838.

‘This day spent as yesterday; too much time probably given to express my feelings towards a fellow-creature, and certainly far too little to God.

‘Mind, as well as body, enfeebled by a sleepless night. Thought in bed of dying; and felt how much divine supports must be needed in the last agbnji Prayed for strength; but rather for prolonged life, if it should be God’s will, for my father s sake, and die sake of the many friends who desire it. Did not feel much fear: th Lord forbid that this should result irom insensibility; or, if it does, may he stir me up, and give me the same calmness, yea, a better and more stable, as the fruit of faith.

’ 6th January 1838.

* Miserably negligent of divine things. Why should I compliment away a moment of the time which I owe to God, and to my own immortal interests?

’ Then spake Jesus again unto them, saying, I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.” — John viiL 12.

‘This is a more specific form of the promise that “we should know, if we follow on to know the Lord.” It shows us the great way in which we ought to prosecute this knowledge, — following Christ, treasuring up his sayings, and imitating his example. This will not only give us light in regard to belief and duty; but, if our walk is close with him, comfortably satisfy us of our state. Why, then, do believers walk so much in darkness? Because, for a time, they cease from following Christ, or pursue their course with fainting steps, and slow. If they followed on steadily they would see “a great light” shining on their path, the light of life, a quickening, encouraging, and guiding ray. Oh that I could say with David,” My soul folio weth hard after thee!’* I would then Know something of the joyful light which possesses and penetrates a heart at peace with God, and finding its rest in the shining of his countenance.

‘Sabbath, *7tk January 1838.

‘Day cold and stormy; so I had to confine myself to the house. My afiections were very cold; but almost all my thoughts were giren to religion. Read part of Mrs Newell’s life, and of Witherspoon on Regeneration. Witherspoon very plain and discriminating. Struck with a remark of Mrs Newell’s (p. 6&), that increased knowledge, if one is unconverted, may be the means of increased misery.

To the one we are the savour of death unto death.” ^2 Cor. ii. 16.

‘This awful proposition may be illustrated from the case of our most ordinary advantages. He who, from heedlessness, rash rejection of prudential advices, dissipation, or any other cause depending on his own will, has lost the blessing of health, feels a more pungent sorrow than one who has all his days been subject to disease; the abuse of a mercy thus punishing itself. Thus, every gift of God, if abused, is the occasion of quickening remorse, and aggravating condemnation.

But intellectual or moral gifts are peculiarly distinguished by having, in an eminent degree; this element of retribution in themselves. The cultivated intellect is more capacious of the ideas, whether of pain or pleasure, than one which has not experienced the enlargement which education gives. The man who has acquired an extreme delicacy of taste in art or literature, as he has more enjoyment from the chef louvres in each, has also more pain in the view o: what is rough and ill assorted. And so is it in moral sensibility; the mind, as it grows in this quality, may he capable of more rapturous delight, but it is also exposed to intenser anguish. The vessel is enlarged; it can therefore contain more of the bitter as well as of the honeyed potion. It seems, then, reasonable, and not repugnant to analogy, that, in another world, they who die in unbelief may suffer somewhat in proportion to their mental and moral capacities. If so, how many unsanctified spirits that habitually forget God in the chase after distinction in literature or

138 MEMOm OF JAMES HAIXET.

science, shall find, that, in increasing knowledge, tlief have been. increasing sorrow! And how many, who boast of their sensibility, but lavish it all on the creature, will find that they have nourished it to a fearfol acuteness!

Lord, is all my acquisition of knowledge only to serve this sad purpose of vengeance? Search and tiy me; show me my sins; give me true faith in the Lord Jesus; expand my heart with thine own love shed abroad by the Holy Ghost; and guide me to glory. For Christ’s sake.’

* Tuesday, leth January 1838.

’ “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” — John xv. 13.

‘Greater love, certainly, than this measure of it, has never ben exhibited by man; seldom indeed has the compass of human affection been so great- A very few striking instances are on record, in the history of our whole species, of deliberate self-devotion in the room of a friend; and these have ever been regarded as reaching the acme of human heroism. But by no human standard can we measure the length and breadth of the love of Christ. The love of Zaleucus to his son might serve as a measure of that still more wonderful devotedness which might be displayed for a more dlatoxit friend; but it fails, in this view, when we attempt to gain from it some conception of that generosity which could lavish its own life to save that of an enemy. There is here no proportion at all; human affection might bring about the one result, something superhuman would be needed to produce the other. Multiply, by what co- efficient you may, the love of a father who maims his own body to deliver his sons, or of a friend who surrenders his own life in the place of one to whom his inmost soul is knit, and you can never come to the love of him who dies for his embittered foe. (” But God commendeth, &c.”) lis like taking a multiple of a finite number to express infinity/

* Wednetday, 1*7 th January 1838.

‘My birth-day. Spent in vanity almost wholly. Only a short season giren to prayer and reading. Oh! my leanness!

^’^ We spend our years as a tale that is told.” — Fbalm xc. 9.

* A tale! often how interesting, how deeply enchaining! at all events how full of bustle and movement! Such, till about ten months ago, when the hand of God was laid upon me, were my years. I hurried from one occupation to another, without either time or taste for serious thought, — interested and zealous for the tine in the pursuit which engaged me, and scarcely at all noticing that the descending current was carrying me down toward eternity. The tale was stirring; one event pressed hard on another, and so it rapidly passed away.

But a tale once told, how soon does it vanish from the memory! how suddenly do its images fade! A dim impression is all that remains of that which once played so pleasantly round the fancy. And so is it with those twenty-four years which God has been pleased to give me. Their events are buried in the past eternity, never to arise, except in judgment; and there, either to aggravate my condemnation (fearful thought), or to add to the glory of that grace which saves so great a sinner. The Lord in mercy turn them to the .latter purpose! Meantime a general impression is all that remains to me of these years of my pilgrimage; and that is one of sin and sorrow, “vanity and vexation of spirit,” unparalleled mercies abused, Emmanuel’s love requited by neglect. “Return, O Lord, how long V — “O Lord, I beseech thee deliver my soul.”

‘May this new year of my being on earth (how probablj the last!) find me wholly a new creature. *’^ Turn thou me, and I shall be turned, for thou art the Lord my God/* — “satisfy me early with thy mercy, that I may be glad and rejoice all my days !* — “Sanctify me wholly.” And may “the God of all grace, who hath called me unto his eternal glory by Christ Jesus, after that I have suffered a while, make me perfect, stablish, strengthen, settle me:” To him be glory and dominion for ever and ever. Amen 1’

* “The heart is deceitful above all things.” — Jer. xvii. 9.

‘This I have most abundantly proved in the workings of my own heart. One most extraordinary instance of its deceit is, that whereby it persuades itself that bodily weakness is a sufficient reason for neglect of religion. Seldom, since I began to think of eternity at all, has my mind been So little impressed by it as during the few last days. And this I know I have tacitly excused to myself, on the imaginary ground that much serious thought would aggravate my disorder. But whi, should it? Or, even if it did, are a few hours of a sickly dying existence to be put in comparison with the everlasting welfare of my soul? Yet, in every evasion of religious thought on the score of weak health, the assumption is involved, that the one of these can compete with the other. If this is not the madness of self-deceit, where can it be found? From this and all such manifest delusions of Satan, good Lord, deliver me.’

* “Behold, now I know that there is no God in all the earth, but in Israel; now, therefore, I pray thee, take a blessing of thy servant. But he said, As the Lord liveth, before whom I stand, I will receive none.” — 2 Kings v. 15, 16.

‘The Scripture leaves us in no doubt about the propriety and acceptableness (through Christ) of thank-offerings. It commands us to “offer unto God thanksgiving” (Ps. 1. 14) — ^’ to offer the sacrifice of praise to God continually” (Heb. xiii. 15) — to “bring an offering, and come into his courts” (Ps. xcri. 8); and those are commended, both in the Old Testament and the New, whose gratitude for spiritual mercies found a vent in liberality to the poorer saints, or to the sanctuary of God.

* Yet Elisha here rejects the gift of Naaman. And we thus seem forced to the conclusion, that it was not a mere expression of thankfulness, but intended in part as a remuneration for the service which the man of God had done him. Elisha resolutely maintains to him that the gift of God is not to be purchased with money or changes of raiment What might have been accepted, had it come simply to attest the emotion of a gratefid heart, is sternly refused when offered as a reward. It then becomes the fruit of a legal spirit, and acquires a taint from its parent disposition.

‘Much of this legality — this ex post facto legality, if I may so call it — is found in Christians. When onder strong convictions, they see with some clearness the enormous evil of sin, the hopeless condemnation (as far as human effort is concerned) under which it lays them, and the impossibiUty of making out, by deeds of law, either in whole or in part, a title to glory. Then Christ is revealed to their souls, and wdcomed heartily; they rely on him, and at first on him alone; and they experience, partially, the blessed effect of having a weight of sin lifted from off their consciences. A lively gratitude succeeds; but the remains of the ‘old man mingle with it, and there is infused into it a tincture of the vitiating element of the legal, bargaining spirit. Salvation is too good, too great (they tacitly assume), to be so free. They must try to pay off some portion of the immense debt of gratitude they have incurred — to render some equivalent, forgetful that equivalents are out of the question, when the gift is everlasting life, and that &at debt can never be lessened which stretches out into the infinite. Thus many do partially ^’ hH from grace;” “baring begun in the Spirit,” seek to be made perfect by the flesh f* perform their daties on a wrong principle, and so lose much of the ccHnfort they might minister. Instead of thanksgiving, th drm of recompense; and thus in many of theb efforts they are but beating the air, — losing of course that at which they aim, and miwing substantial good which they might secie b/rSg in the way of €hpd’s commandments with a simpler intention.’

•8MaA, 2lit January 1838.

‘” This day is holy unto the liord your €rod; momrn not, nor weep; for the joy of the Lord is your strength.** — Nehemiah viii. 9, 10.

‘Sweet is the light of Sabbath eye,

And soft the sunbeam Ung’ring there;

Those sacred hoars this low earth leave.

Wafted on wings of praise and prayer.

* Season of rest! the tranquil soul

Feels thy sweet calm, and melts in love;
And while these sacred moments roll.
Faith sees a smiling heav’n above.

Edmeston.

“It is good to be here” should be the language of our souls, not merely when on the mount of ordinances, but throughout all the hours of that blessed day which Jehovah has sanctified for himself. It is good to be apart from the cares and furmoil of time; and, gaining this sacred eminence, to look abroad upon eternity. And, were our hearts but right with God, such meditation, though solemn, would be fiir from sad; the calm majesty that endrcles the in* finite would settle and compose the spirit, and we should find a response within to that counsel of the Levites to the remnant of Israel — ^’ This day is holy unto the Lord,” &c.

So &r from having any tendency to throw a shadow over the mind, it is the native property of divine truth, when fully received, to minister peace and joy. If Christians, then, are under the dominion of hahitual and prevalent dejection, it is not because they have too much religion, hut because they have too little. Indeed, if our Christianity has never been to us the spring of a sensible satisfaction, there is too much reason to suspect it of spuriousness; at all events, to conclude that it has hut a very broken and imperfect sway.

That joy, in some measure or degree, is an essential result of the possession of a true faith, is involved in innumerahle declarations of Scripture. Joy is expressly mentioned among the fruits of the Spirit. It is Paul’s desire for the Romans, that the God of hope may fill them with all joy and peace in believing. The Psalmist declares that praise is comely for the upright; exhorts all lands to make a joyful noise unto God; prays that the nations may he glad, and sing for joy, and that the daughters of Judah might exult in God’s judgments; counsels all worshippers to serve Qod with gladness, and come before his presence with singing; and gives an explicit warrant to all that seek him to glory in his holy name. It is an apostolic precept to Kve rejoicing in hope, — to rejoice in the Lord alway; and, to mark its importance, the injunction is repeated, “Again I say, rejoice.” In a word, the announcement of a Saviour is “good tidings of great joy;” his appearance was to give light to the people that walked in darkness; the very name of his forerunner was one of gladness, and his disciples are directed to the natural issue of their faith, which nothing but its weakness prevents them from reaching, when Peter addresses these words to the children of the dispersion, — ^’ in whom, though now ye see him not, yet believing, ye rejoice with joy imseakable, and full of glory.”

*’ Why, then, should our hands hang dolni, or ovr knees be feeble? “^ Say to them that are of a fearM heart. Be strong, fear not” — “We declare unto you glad tidings, now that the promise which was made unto the fathers, God hath fulfilled the same unto us their children, in that he hath raised up Jesus again.” ‘^ It is Christ that died; yea, rather that is risen again;” “in whom dwelleth all the fulness of the Godhead bodily.”

Besides the general reason for religious and sob joy, which is supplied by the grace that has been brought nigh unto us through the appearing of Jesus Christ, there are special reasons peculiarly applicable to all seasons of solemn festival, and, in particular, to that weekly rest which God’s Word appoints and blesses.

One of these may be drawn from that communion of saints, in spirit and purpose, which is one of the most refreshing of revealed truths. To think that there is one great family called by the name of Jesus, scattered indeed through every nation, and kindred, and people, and tongue, — yet keeping the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace; bowing around a thousand hearths, yet before one throne of grace; praying in a thousand tongues, but the language of their hearts breathing one melody; differing in bodily form and feature, but bearing one image and superscription on their souls; — to think that on this day, especially, their hymms and prayers are all ascending, to be perfumed with Immanuel’s costly incense, and to return in showers of blessing; — surely this were enough to enkindle the coldest affections — to elicit a glad answer to the Levites’ exhortation, “Mourn not, nor weep.” To think that the living stones, found on every shore, from the icy mountains of the north to the islands of the southern wave, are being brought together to constitute one glorious temple, invisibly yet indissolubly cemented by the blood of the Lamb, — and that this “day has a peculiar part to perform in consolidating the sacred edifice, — this were a sufficient reason for an angel’s joy.

‘And need we add that the Sahbath is joyful too, as the appointed emblem of the rest that remaineth for the people of God? It is hallowed, not merely by the concert in worship of the saints on earth, but as the type and figure of their adoring repose in heaven. But how does our sin and corruption make the comparison to fail! How “cold our warmest thought” to the service of those, his ministers, who are as a flame of fire! How wretched our unbelieving doubts and fears, our half-confiding prayers, our stammering praises, when placed in contrast with the full tide of joy and gratitude which is poured from the lips of those who have exchanged faith for vision, and serve Him day and night in his temple! Yet let the institution of the sacred day, as emblematic of its eternal antitype, elevate our aims, raise our affections, and fill us with a holy gladness. “The Lord is risen indeed,” and gone to “prepare a place” for us, — a place of everlasting Sabbath and jubilee. Lord, bring me to that rest. Guide me with thy counsel, and afterward receive me to glory! Amen.’

‘Sabbath, 28th January 1838.

* Read the Scriptures, and Martyn, with some emotion, and came a little nearer than usual to eternity.

* “Deliver me, O Lord, from mine enemies i I flee mito thee to hide me.” — Psalm cxliii. 9.

* How much do we lose from not having our minds constantly in the frame indicated in this prayer. So great is the number, and so overpowering the strength of our enemies, — of all those persons and influences that are adverse to the wellbeing of our souls, that no human power is adequate to our deliverance. Woe, then, to him who goes this warfare on his own charges!

1 46 MEMOm OP JAMES HAIXBY.

* There is, first, the broken law pursuing the wxobk to his destractioni demanding nothing less than die perdition of his soul, or a full equivalent, — and not to be diverted from this exaction bj any ingenuity of excuse or palliation. It follows his every footst and threatens to engulph him in a lake of fire. There is, next, the prince of the power of the air, and all his subordinate thrones and dominions; subtle and practised in working ruin, with ready access to his invagination, and skilful to spread those toils by which diousands already have been ensnared and takoi. How is a feeble man to escape as a bird out of the snare of the fowler? After these come the fascioantions of a world lying in wickedness, of which it is emphatically said, that ^’ all that is in it is not of the Fadier.” And here we are liable to an especial danger. For, like those misguided friends who would have kept back the Saviour from his cross, and unwittingly marred a world’s redemption, our friends may often be turned into foes, and the very attractions with which God has invested them be the means of estranging our hearts from him. And, in fine, our worst enemies are those of our own household, within our own bosoms, — the force of yet unsubdued iniquity maintaining its residence like a strong man armed. Without this our outward foes would want half their terrors. But this it is which gives the sentence of the law its bitterness, throws open the citadel of the heart to Satan, and clothes the world with many of its charms. And this we cannot of ourselves vanquish, — “Can the Ethiopian,” &c. — “Who can bring a clean thing,” &c.

‘Thus beset and beleaguered by opposing hosts whither can we betake ourselves? Let David supply the answer, — “I flee unto Thee to hide me.” “The rock of my strength, and my refuge, is in Grod.” Does the law threaten us? *’*’ In the Lord have I righteousness.” Do the powers of evil molest us?

-*’’ I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fidl not.” Does the world allure us? “This is the victory that overcometh the world, even our faith.” Does it threaten us? “Be of good cheer: I have overcome the world.” Do our own hackslidings reprove us, and our iniquities, like the wind, carry us away? “The very God of peace sanctify you wholly.”

* Mhy I ever he enabled thus practically to use and apply his Word; and, in every time of terror or temptation, thus to hide myself like a child in his father’s arms: through Christ. Amen.’

The plan of these short records, it will he perceived, is this: — Some incident occurring is allowed to suggest the subject of meditation; then a suitable text of Scripture is selected; and the reflections written in the form of a practical comment on the verse. Perhaps it may be thought they are too formal for a diary. One reason of this is, that they are selections; and the more elaborate have been chosen, because in this case the most valuable. The more familiar jottings regarding his own state have generally been omitted, because they are similar to each other, and not so well fitted to be generally useful. The short meditations that have been given, contain each an illustration of some important doctrine of Scripture. It is certain they have more the appearance of finished compositions, than the contents of a diary usually have; but this is owing to the habit of the writer s mind. The same scrupulous accuracy of style runs through every thing he wrote. We are persuaded that serious readers will be so much occupied in applying the acute experimental religious instruction which these little essays contain, that they will have no leisure to criticise the form in which they appear.

To preserve the order of the dates, we insert here an extract from a letter to J. C. Colquhoun, Esq., M.P.

* FuNCHAL, Madeira, 5th Fdffucuy 1838.

My dear Sir, — I am almost ashamed to take ap my pen to write to you; so long have I allowed the time to pass at which I ought to have made you aware of my state and prospects. Two things prevented me; first, the hurtfulness of much stooping to a person lahouring under pulmonary disease; second, a strong desire to have something definite to say of myself before I should trouble you with a letter. The first of these impediments still operates so far, that I take only a sheet of the ordinary dimensions, instead of the gigantic expanse of paper which I would most willingly, and could most easily fill, — assured that you will regard the shortness of my epistle as inferring, not a diminution of gratitude to you, but an increase of wholesome care for that health which you have shown yourself so anxious to see restored.

‘We left Glasgow on Saturday, 28 th October, for Dublin, where we arrived next day; sailed thence on 1st November for Falmouth; and from Falmouth, on Friday the 10th November, for Madeira. We passed Porto-Santo on the afternoon of Friday the 17th, and anchored in Funchal bay on Saturday the 18th. Henry Cadell, Esq., of the Bank of Scotland in Edinburgh, who had been advertised by Alex. Dunlop, Esq., of my intended shipment, met us on the beach; and, with the genuine zealous feeling of a right good Church-extensionist, aided us in getting settled. So full is the place of English invalids, that we were obliged to place ourselves in the only boarding-house which had at that time a vacancy. We think ourselves fortunate, upon the whole, in the place of our residence

‘The climate, although we have had a rainy season, as the Madeirans say, of unusual severity, is all that

CLIMATE — STEEPNESS OF THE ISLAlO). 149

could be wished, and really exceeds my best expectations of it. This has been such a day as Scotland will not know till June; and, after a short visit to Dr Benton’s residence, I have returned home, loaded with heliotropes, geraniums, passion-flowers, and camelias, all blooming in the open air. Only it must be admitted, that even after the very heavy rains are gone, there is so much moisture floating in the air, in consequence of evaporation, that it is sometimes trying to weak lungs. Often, in the mornings, although we are in a dry situation, the rails of the stair within the house feel quite clammy and wet; and the state of atmosphere, by which this is caused, is pretty steadily indicated by that sure barometer — an increased difficulty of breathing. The fertility of the island is alto-^ gether amazing, considering that it is just a thin mould, superimposed on successive layers of different lavas. And the terraced appearance, which results partly from its structure, and partly from the labour of the natives to secure convenience of irrigation, renders the general aspect of Madeira peculiarly novel and picturesque. Then the semi-tropical vegetation, — the orange, citron, lemon, banana, coral tree, magnolia, with cactuses and custard apples, excited at first a good deal of our attention, and served us with materiaJs for some inquiries.

‘The greatest hindrance, either to botanical pursuits (if I had cared about engaging in them), or to that physical exercise and enjoyment which constitutes much of my business as a professed invalid, — is the extreme steepness of the island. A road is called level here, if it rises only one foot in five. So that, I think, physicians, in sending consumptive people here, have a sly design to prevent their walking about much; at least, they are as effectually prevented, as if the whole thing had been devised and adapted to that end. Much motion, to a brokeu’-winded man, is impossible without a horse. And then the mode of equestrian transport is so grotesque; a Portugaese attendant, clothed in their characteristic dress, ahnost invariably accompanying jou — giving jour h(»8e a thwack on the hind-quarters with a stick, if he think& it is not going fast enough, and, if you moTe yeryrapidly, seizing the tail, and, in this preposterous guise, scampering along behind you. In. good weather, I go out in this style an hour a-day; and have got, along with the refreshment of the sun and air, some useful lessons in riding, on roads more perilous by far than any mountain track I ever saw in the

Highlands of Scotland

‘Sed de meipso sat, A few words now on the state of religion here. Among the lower Portuguese, the attachment to Popery, if we may judge from their outward acts, is very blind and bigoted. The higher classes of them, at least those who think at all, are said to be generally infidels; yet they make no scruple of sending their younger daughters, who may happen to be “untochered” into nunneries. But the spirit of Popery, Proteus-like, can accommodate itself to circumstances. It does not exist here in its greatest sternness. The nunneries are accessible to strangers; and a person who was in one of them the other day, on a sort of conventual saturnalia, told me that the nuns were busy singing and laughing; that there was a good piano in the chapel, on which one played cheerful airs to amuse the rest; and that preparations were going on for a supper and ball which the lady abbess was to give on her re-election. So there you have the monster laughing. Half of the priests, it is said, are Deists; and very ignorant the generality of them must be; for I saw a gentleman a few days ago, who told me, that one of them, who is somewhat more inquisitive than his neighbours, had borrowed of him, and is reading, a Portuguese Old Testament, — a volume which, till then, he had never seen. The vicar-general, who is ecclesiastical head of the island.

CLERGYMEN — ^PRATER-MEETINa. 151

ia .a very liberal papist; insomuch that, on Christmas day 1 836, he attended divine serrice at the EngUsh chapel. Probably this was not so great an inconsisp tency as it seems, for the English clergjrman is highvhurchf t. e., fully half way to Popery

‘Inclusive of Mr Williamson, a Scottish licentiate, whom you met in the “Leith,” and myself, there are here 15 or 16 clergymen — mostly invalids. Of these not above six are evangelical; but among these are some of the excellent of the earth. Mr Langford, an Irishman, and Mr Ashe, a most acute, intellectual, and spiritually-minded minister of the Church of £ngland, strike me most. A Mr Freeman, who is high-church in principle, is most meek and Christian in spirit.... Under Mr Langford’s auspices, a prayer-meeting has been begun in his house, attended by from 40 to 50 people. The sole clerical supporters of it, who have, of course, always to officiate, are Mr li-, Mr Ashe, and myself. Mr Kempthome has occasionally attended; but all the rest (alas! for Zion!) either disapprove in toto of such things, or stay away because Mr Lowe disapproves. One can have no sympathy with those who discoimtenance an attempt to remind the invalid population of the eternity on whose verge so many tremble. There is also a clerical meeting of five or six persons for edification and prayer, in Mr Langford’s, once a-fortnight, which I have attended with great pleasure and some profit. So you see we have something of Christian friendship and fellowship here, and are enabled to declare ‘^ His praise in the islands.”

* But the heart will seek homewards. I long to hear something of what* is doing in our own land. Can an M.P.’s duties admit of his writing to Madeira? If they can, how it would rejoice me to hear from you. — Yours, &c. J. H.*

The foUovmig meditation from the diary is a very good specimen of the method adopted througboat,* — an incident suggesting the topic, and jet all the reflections founded on a text of Scripture.

* Sabbath, I Ith February 1838. ‘Heard Mr Lowe this forenoon from Gen. i. 31. About two sentences of Christian doctrine in which were contained the two errors of baptismal regeneration and the sinfulness of our Lord’s humanity. In the jUdent, we, who were born in Scotland, will have far more to answer for, than the poor Church of England in Madeira, which scarcely ever hears the truth.

* “Who shall change our vile body, that it may be fashioned like unto his glorious body, according to the working whereby he is able even to subdue all things unto himself.” — Philip, iii. 21.

‘The agent in this change on our bodies, as the last clause informs us, is Omnipotence; and where such energy is put forth, a mighty transformation need not for a moment give rise to incredulous wonder. And how great that transformation! We shall be like Christ, seeing him as he is! The resurrection bodies of the saints shall no more be “vile;” for they shall resemble the glorious body of him who is their head and pattern. But how little do we, how little can we, know here, of his likeness! It doth not yet appear what we shall be. But some distant hints are afforded us, darkly, to shadow forth that coming glory. The transfiguration scene seems to have been given to the disciples, to strengthen their faith, by foreshowing their Master’s exaltation. On that occasion, “His face did shine ‘hs the sun, and his raiment was white as the light;” whatever is bright, beautiful, and ethereal, being used to image forth the splendour of his appearance. And, in like manner, when he appeared in vision to John in Patmos, “his countenance was as the sun shineth in his strength;” while yet the

Christ’s glorious body, 153

beloved disciple could recognise him as like unto the Son of Man — that same Jesus on whose bosom he had leaned, and with whose sorrows he had mingled. In like manner, the new tenements, in which the souls of his saints are to have their eternal dwelling-place, will be bright and pure exceedingly, and jet the identity of their persons be fully maintained. Who knows but that the creative power, put forth in their reproduction in this exalted state, may operate in the way of collecting the very same particles which formerly composed them, — purged from all their dross and corruption, and from these constructing new and nobler residences for their now emancipated spirits? It may thus be literally true, that this “mortal shall put on immortality.” That which here was “vile,” the avenue of temptation, the minister of lust, the instrument of unrighteousness, may thus be ^’ fashioned like imto Christ’s glorious body.” But, whatever the manner, the fact is an elevating and transporting certainty, that “where Christ is, there shall also his servants ’ be,” — that, as his raiment was glistening on Tabor, so their robes shall be white in the heavenly Zion. Thus is the body “sown in corruption, but raised in incorruption; sown in dishonour, raised in glory; sown in weakness, raised in power; sown a natural body, raised a spiritual body.” For, “as we have borne the image of the earthy, we shall also bear the image of the heavenly.” E/jj [lot rovro d, Ivitfov X^nfrov Afiriv!*

To account for the greater freedom and playfulness of the following letter, it ay be mentioned, that it was written to a class-fellow with whom he had long lived on terms of closest intimacy.

* FuNCHAL, 14«A Fdyruary 1838. ‘My very dear Friend, — “Better late than never,” is the motto which I may now prefix to all my corres -

“^ So let it be with me, through Jesus Christ. Amen.

K pondence; and I am sure I will find in jou a response to the spirit of it — a satisfaction in hearing from me

even at the eleventh hour “We are forming an

acquaintance with the other inmates, chiefly b j dint of meeting each other in the turret (This needs explanation; but, in sooth, no explanation will convey to you an idea of the whimsicality of Madeiran architecture. Be it known, however, that every house of any respectability has, either superimposed on the roof, or made into a separate edifice, an oblong room, with windows all around it, in order to observe approaching vessels; the arrival of a ship being the only sort of incident that ever occurs here. 0«r turret is a nice little room, with a good many books, four green chairs, a table, and a huge sofa, — whereof (the sofa) the use has been most delightful.)

‘Next in order, our out-of-door resources come to be mentioned. The climate, in spite of a rainy season of great severity, is delicious. True, it has sometimes rained so bucketfullt, for a week together, that Senhor Diogo (for such is my name) has not got out diu-ing that time; but then would come such a smiling shining day, as you poor Britannics won’t see till May or June; and the heliotropes, geraniums, and passion flowers — blooming sub Jove friido — would make one think that Pindar had Madeira in view, when he sung —” Eva fiaxauv va<fov (oxiavtdsg avat Tgg/o’vsoutf/v, dvhfia de ^^v<fov pXgyg/.’*’* The fertility of the soil is amazing. It is just terraces of thin mould on blocks of lava; but every square inch bears; and under the vineries you may see undergrowths of potatoes, pumpkins, &c., &c. You would laugh to see the infinitesimal spots which they inclose as fields; and still more to mark a Madeiran agriculturist with a plough of most primitive construction, drawn by a pair of little light-brown oxen, most philosophically

* Where the ocean breezes play upon the island of the blest, and flowers «f gold glitter in the sun.

sowing wheat and tares together. Apropos of the oxen, I may say, that they and mules are the only £trm-serYants from the brute creation. Cart-horses there are none, for this irrefragable reason, that there are no carts. The island is so steep, and the roads so rough, that wheel-carriages are quite out of the question. Two or three gentlemen hare droskies, and the Portuguese ladies run to the balconies to see them, with as much zeal as they would to see a well-dressed Inglezina going to church. The internal transport of goods is effected by putting them in hampers on men’s heads, or on sledges drawn by the oxen aforesaid. The same steepness which makes the island inaccessible to carts, renders it equally difficult to broken-winded men. Hence, whoever comes here as an invaUd, if he wishes to get the benefit of that open air for which chiefly he is sent, must either keep, or frequently hire, a horse. Even on a horse, it is often a sad scramble. I have gone up placjes, which, at a little distance, looked like the face of a wall; and you cannot ride any distance without encountering some great ascents. The horses of course are used to it, and are very surefooted; and so are the men, one of whom runs after you wherever you go, and at whatever pace, clenching your horse’s tail a^/g owi. I generally ride an hour or more daily, weather permitting; and always feel my breathing the lighter the more I am out. En pctssanty I may say that I have got some good lessons in riding, both from the* steep ascents, where, if one does not well compress his knees, he will infallibly slide back over the tail, and from riding a certain kicking pony, which, on various occasions, has manifested a strong desire to make me bite the dust. On one occasion lately he operated in this way rather curiously. A party of gentlemen went out, about a month ago, to ride along a road, which, during great part of its extent, is subtended by prickly pears — a coarse and ‘cry spinose cactus. Well, the gentleman {not Senhw

Diogo) who rode this pony happened to get before the rest of the party. Turning round to look for his companions, he placed his hand — quite naturally — behmd him; hut, unluckily, just on the spot where Mr Pony is rather touchy. Sundry Yehement funics (a Scotchman may surely write in Scotch) were the immediate consequence, which duly deposited our hero amoDg the prickly pears — a bed, compared to which, nettles would have been down. As he was emerging, the rest of the party rode up, and sympathetically inquired how he got there. Just as he had mounted, he replied, “Oh! I was looking round, and just laid my hand on the pony sOy” suiting the action to the word. Of course the pony was not a whit less disposed to illustrate, with the closest accuracy, his previous performance; he repeated the experiment without a single demi-semi-funk of yariation; and so, once more, me simpleton sprawled. I think the cleg was nothing to this.

‘Well, — but I wander from my theme; for, in speaking of out-of-door resources, I meant chiefly to allude to friends and acquaintances. Inanimate nature ministers much to our delight and welfare; but gi?e me a man to talk to. In this respect we are Teiy happy. My most valued crony is Henry Cadell, Esq., of the Bank of Scotland, in Ei&nburgh, who was Treasurer to the Church Extension Committee, and having been sent here by Sir James Clarke, was advertised of my coming, by Alex. Dunlop, Esq., met us on the beach, helped us to get settled, and often delights me with his visits. I need say nothing more of him than that he is a right-hearted Scotchman, every way worthy of being treasurer to Dr Chalmers* Committee. Then there are Messrs Ashe and Langford, evangelical ministers of the Church of England, both of a noble and devoted spirit. Ashe is a man of high talent and thorough orthodoxy, who commenced his ministry as a low Arminian, and was brought to change his views by reading the Scriptures; above all, a man of the most elevated spirituality, to whom you cannot speak without feeling that his conversation is in heaven. E, g,^ I met him the other day at the funeral of the Rev. Mr Bond, another excellent man, and was rep marking how heavily the stroke would faU on his friends, as he was taken off, not by his pulmonary disease, but by what I may call an incidental fever. — Ashe replied, “Why should they grieve? He has only got the start of us a little.” How I envied his

failh! Then there is the Rev. J S also an

Anglican, who is eminent in another way; of vast reading, and great conversational power; a writer of verses in Blackwood; a hard student of Germanic criticism; but his theology tinged a good deal with the mud of that fountain. Yet he is truly liberalminded; fond of discussion; confesses the parochial inefficacy of the Anglican system: and I think, if he were in Scotland, would vote with the extreme left in

the General Assembly. Next, a Mr F, Arminian

in theology, but most mild and gentle in spirit; and his sister, a kind of female translation of his character A Mrs O, who came with us in the

packet, is a great fnend of Janet’s. She has two sons with her, William and Louis; — Louis, a young officer, who, poor fellow! will never see his colours again, being in the last stage of consimiption; and William, the heir of a patrimony in the north of Ireland, who was intended for the army, but, having begun to think seriously on religion, resigned his commission to his brother. He is one of the most faithful and affectionate sons and brothers I have ever seen. He seems willing to make any sacrifice, that his mother and Louis may be comfortable. And so intense is his fraternal affection, that after he had been made aware of the improbability of his brother’s recovery, he was found (being of a very abstracted and absent turn) in the miadle of the night, standing by Louis’s bedside.

158 IfEMOIB OF JAXBB HAUJET.

aad gazing on the pale and beaatifnl features of ins sleeping brother. He Tnaintains a ycij lofty standard of Christian consdentionsness; and though he bis much to gain in religions knowledge, will find, I doubt not, an abundant fulfilment of the promises in

Hosea vi. 2, 3, and John vii, 44, Mrs O is very

clever; has travelled and seen much, and has a fine spirit, much subdued and meUowed bj great familj trials. Moreover, we have some Glasgow friends....

* You wonder, I dare say, why I have not yet given a particular account of my health. Every thing in its order. I wanted to let you know first the causes in operation; a statement of the effects will follow. You have now some idea of the moral causes of cheeifiil* ness and lively occupation; I shall now say something of the physical or Rentonian ef&cients of mj

health Meanwhile, I am often filled with

longings for the Presbytery of Edinburgh, and frequently feel as if, suppose I were licensed and yet not able to preach at home, I would gladly go to some foreign station under a warmer sun. You can’t imagine how foolishly these thoughts sometimes engross me, and how sadly I think of those houses of prayer, in which, but for criminal indolence, which compelled me to delay, my voice might have sounded. But you must not think, from this, that the 6vfLov xaniuv* process is going on very actively. My besetting sin is light-heartedness and want of thought. And I have daily cause for lamentation that I am so apt to forget the solemnities of my state; and that, though pressed by the mightiest motives, I so little hold forth the word of life.

‘The mixture of inability and inactivity, which operates to prevent me from doing the little good I might, is the more to be regretted, as there is scarcely any thing heard here of the truth as it is in Jesus. The minister of the English Church, though known

* Mind-consuming.

at Cambridge as a botanist and ichthyologist, and here as the composer of some pretty hymn music, is literally no divine. His theology, if it may be so called, is a compound of Arminianism and Popery. His yiews are what are called highchurch, and nearly approximate to those of the Oxford Tract men; only he has not a grain of the fervour which marks some of them. I have heard him preach baptismal regeneration — the necessity of the sacraments to salvation — the notion that the virtue of the Lord’s Supper lies “not in your faith, but in the consecrated signs” — the heresy that we are not justified by faith without works of law, &c., &c.; and with all this zeal for sacrar mental forms, I cannot say that I have ever heard him fvUy declare the Atonement of Jesus Christ, nor have I ever heard one forcible appeal to the conscience. With a congregation before him, 200 members of which are probably in the grasp of a fatal disorder, he edified us last day with a discourse on the folly of atheism, and with another, whereof the drift was to show, that “Anathema Maranatha,” means —” excommunicated from the Church !*’ You will not wonder to hear that the people’s state corresponds to these instnictions. I have never witnessed a more intensely worldly spirit than among the English residents here: this, with gaiety, seems to make sad havoc with them. The Sabbath is much abused. Many of the English went to a ball on the evening of th 31st December; and what wonder, when just a week previously, — viz., on Christmas eve (Sabbath), the Rev.

Mr T, who is here for his wife’s health, and often

assists Mr Lowe, went to enjoy the music and spectacle at the Popish cathedral!

‘The operation of high-church principles, which, if they be not purged out, will, I verily believe, be the nun of the Church of England, will be best illustrated by a brief account of a prayer-meeting which is held at Mr Langford’s. Thai zealous and excellent clergy-

1 60 M BHOm OF JAMBS HALLET.

man, who has been here three wmters, was in the habit formerly of holding such meetings. Desirom of doing so under the most fayourable circumstanoes, he asked Mr Lowe’s aid, or, if not, at least his concurrence and countenance. The reply was that “’ it was not ecclesiastical; if Mr Langford chose to meet in the churchy and read the Church service Mr Lowe -would be very happy to give the use of the church for that end; but he thought it quite irregular to meet in an unconsecrated place, and use extemporaneous prayer,” Of course Mr Langford just set on foot die meeting suis virihus; and how many, think you, out of 15 clergymen, assist in it? why, just Mr Ashe and myself. .... Howerer, by the help of God, the meeting continues; and on good days is attended by some 40 or 50 people. I hope I have learned something from the acute discernment and

spiritual understanding of Mr Ashe

‘With these occupations and enjoyments, blessed be God, I have never in the daytime, known weariness. Sometimes, with my grievous incapacity for sustained meditation, a sleepless night has passed heavily away. But on the whole, my comforts very far exceed any thing of suffering that I have yet been called to. Probably you will wonder that I have so long deferred saying any thing about my mental state. The truth is, I have little to say. Although eternity has been brought so near me, I feel very much of a body of sin and death still making my soul cleave to the dust. I have daily cause to mourn over levity and worldliness of spirit, and wonder at myself for daring to entertain imaginations and schemes which savour of expecting a resting-place here. I feel that I am not “pure in heart;” and how, then, I am often tempted to ask, can I think to see God? My only refuge is to endeavour to look unto Jesus, in the exercise of the direct act of faith, — as being set forth a propitiation for sins, thrAigh faith in his blood.

Iniquities so prevail against me, that I often see this but obscurely; but I dare not look any where else. I still need your prayers for faith and the spirit ofadop Hon

‘And suffer me, my beloved friend, to exhort you, that you make full proof of your ministrv. Every thing I have seen convinces me of the inexpressible advantage and blessing we enjoyed in being born in Scotland, and educated for the ministry under Dr M^Gill. I do think that, had the object been to devise a plan for the encouragement of careless men to enter the ministry, no more appropriate scheme could have been fallen on, than the system which prevails in the Church of England, in which prayer, by being in a prescribed mode, is rendered formal, and something nearly approaching to utter contempt is cast upon the ordinance of preaching, by running it so completely into a comer. Our sin is the greater, if the simple formula of our Church’s worship — more suited, as I think, to the genius of a spiritual dispensation — do not lead ub to conduct our labours in the newness of the Spirit, and not in the oldness of the letter. And while, alas! too many of Christ’s professed ministers appear perplexed and bewildered if you remove their horn-book, and substitute the sacrament for Christ, and dwell in the outward form; may it be your happiness to know nothing but Jesus Christ and him cracilied, to turn many to righteousness, and finally to shine as a star in the firmament for ever and ever. That this may be your course, I never forget to pray; and that” the God of peace, who brought

again fi-om the dead our Lord Jesus,” &c., &c

And now, my dear firiend, ferewell. You know to whom I commend you, with the truest affection. Ever yours, J. H.’

* Rev, William Amot*

This letter, all written on one sheet, is of very great length. The portions extracted abore make up about one half of the whole. It is written with the utmost neatness and accuracy. Not a letter needs to he altered. Every point appears in its proper place. This was his habit, exemplified in the most trifling note, as well as in* an elaborate essay.

In this and other letters which follow, the reader will observe there are some very free remarks on the species of Popery which is spreading in the Church of England. Although in some quarters they may give offence, we do not feel at liberty to suppress such passages as these. It is no aim of ours to employ the pen of the dead in stirring up strife among the Uving; hut we have a sacred duty to perform, and we must go right through with it. This is not a time to keep back, through an overstrained delicacy, any evidence that may bear upon that wide-spread heresy. Mr Halley had full opportunity of observing the developement of Puseyism among the English residents at Madeira; and we feel it were an injury done to the cause of truth to withhold the testimony of a witness so competent. We shall continue to present his evidence regarding the principles and practice of the system. When destructive error is prevailing, we are bound to call as witnesses for the truth, those who are qualified intellectually to understand the question, and endued with moral courage to speak the truth plainly.

The following letter contains a pretty minute account of the state of his health. He describes the symptoms of his own disease, as he always did, with as much stoical coolness as if he had been speaking of a stranger; and yet it may be observed, that the * proverbially deceptive * malady had some influence in STvaying his judgment. The hint toward the conclusion, about trying the missionary work in a warmer climate, is eminently characteristic of the writer’s mind. He yvsLS * full ’ of a desire to preach Christ, and ’ weary iiritli holding in.’ It is addressed to a minister in Glasgow: —

‘FuNCHAL, Madeira, Feb, 19, 1838.

‘My dear Sir, — The kind and very active part -wliicli you took in my transportation to this place, ftilly entitles you to some account of the consequences which have resulted from your friendly labours. I did not write sooner, in order that I might have something pretty definite to say; and I write briefly, lest much stooping should defeat the very purpose for which I sojourn in this strange land.

‘My father and Mr R. will probably, ere now, have told you something of our voyage hither, and of the results of my residence here, up to the beginning of January. All that I could then speak of was a very slight degree of improvement, and I cannot speak of much more now. Still there has been enough to exempt the disease from the gloom of utter hopelessness, although not enough, certainly, to warrant any con/iderU expectation of a recovery either speedy or complete. Dr Renton, whose advice I enjoy, happened to call here the other day, when I was just writing some accoimt of myself, and he gave his imprimatur to it in every particular; so I cannot do hatter than repeat it to the best of my recollection.

‘When I came here in November, Dr R. examined my chest, by means of the stethoscope, with great care. He fixed at once, and confidently, on the very same spots which Drs Alison, Peebles, and Watson, had marked out as the chief seats of the disease; but spoke more strongly than even Dr Watson of the length to which the malady had gone. “You have just about one lung working; the right is ahnost wholly, the left partially hepatized; but no cavity has been foimed, and it mai be possible to bring you about slowly by care and active measures” As to care, Janet and I have done our best; and the other measiures hare been sufficiently active, consisting of foiu: blisters, two mustard plasters, and, whenever the skin was decently formed upon the blistered surface, constant irritation with tartar emetic ointment. Three months of these things have made them and me excellent friends. I am never above two days or so free from the tartaric irritation, and walk and ride about with it as composedly as if no such process were going on. The effects have been, on the whole, favourable. Dr Renton says, quite decidedly, that I can now inhale a longer breath than I could when he first examined me; which proves that some part of the congestion or hepatization has begun to give way. And if this much has been accomplished during a rainy season of almost unexampled severity, we may reasonably hope that the movement will not be retrograde when we come to really settled and genial weather. Renton thinks it a good feature of the case that my build is naturally so strong, and that I have no constitutional tendency to pulmonary disorders. Had such a tendency existed, he would have thought the case hopeless. And it is a very favourable circumstance that I am quietly situated, — not in one of the large boarding-houses, where the inmates are fifteen or twenty strong, — and yet enjoy such various and pleasant society, that I have never, in the daytime, known weariness. But I am sensible that my ultimate recovery is still very doubtful — scr, ^vom ttrrarai axfirig. Long disease in the lungs may induce a tuberculous formation, for which there is no remedy. But there is reason to believe that no such thing exists as yet; and I cannot be sufficiently thankml to the Providence which sent me hither, and so delivered me from the

&tal termination to which a Scottish winter would, before now, have brought my disorder. I have endeavoured to ascertain from Dr Ronton what course he would advise me to follow, should I be spared till the time when the invalids usually leave this for Britain. He declines giving a decided judgment at present, till he sees how I stand the greater heat which we may soon expect. If it operates favourably, I presume, on medical grounds, he would advise me to pass the summer here. But the constant headache from which I used to suffer at home (insomuch that four months of 1835 were just one continued headache), are too likely to return under the excitement and heat of a southern summer. Of course, time alone can show how this is likely to be. I need not say, that all my own desires are on the side of returning home. Here, invalids are so unconcernedly spoken of as an article of commerce, and every thing, down to burial fees, is contrived so completely and remorselessly on the principle of fleecing them (or, as it is more gently expressed, making the most of them), that, even in the worst issue, I should not wish to die in Madeira. And, on the more favourable supposition of a recovery f which Dr Renton frankly tells me must be gradual ana protracted), I have a great longing to deliver my remaining discourse before the Presbytery of Edinburgh, and be ready for any work to which Providence may call me. It must not be concealed, that Dr R. says plainly, that even should I live till the vnnter of 1 838, it wiQ be out of the question to spend it in Scotland; and this, no doubt, very much perplexes the question of my return in summer; for, if I were likely to need to come back here, it would be scarcely worth while to stir. But although I might be unfit for home labour, it is possible that I might be able to do something under a warmer sun; and rather than conthiue a burden, any longer than is absolutely necessary, upon those friends who sent me

1S6 MEMOIB OF JAMES HALLE Y.

here, I would volunteer into the foreign service of the Church. So far as I can at present see (although I am not confident in this opinion, for continued sickness enfeebles the mind, and makes one even more shortsighted than usual), I think, if it were the will of God, I might, from the influence of my college standing and otner such causes, be more useful in Scotland than any where else; but if I were not well enough to preach at home, and yet able to do even a little abroad, I should view it as a call in Providence to leave my kindred and my father’s house. Now this could not be done without first obtaining license at home. On the other hand, if it is Dr Renton’s judgment, after the lapse of some more time, that to return home would be just undoing what good has already been done, and that to remain here would give a more rational hope of ultimate recovery and usefulness, I presume my kind friends in Glasgow, who made you the organ of their benevolence, would approve of my acting on his counsel. ..... Yours

with much respect and gratitude, J. H/

* Rev. Jamei Gibson.’

As there is no letter preserved from February to May, we continue the mental history of the patient by another series of extracts from the Journal.

* Saturday, lOth March 1838. ‘I have to record another mercy since my last entry in this book, viz., the arrival, on Tuesday last, of nine letters from Glasgow, some of which exceedingly affected and melted me. Blessed be God for such friends; they add much to the mercies for which I must answer.’

‘Thursday, IM March 1838.

* Engaged in special prayer for an upward di|-ection to my desires. Found a most humbling tendency in* my mind to take up its rest here. Surely God iaamply warning me that here I have no continuing city; yet I go on as if earth were my home. Oh for more sustained solemnity of spirit! oh for a heart in heaven! ’

Friday, 16M March 1838.

* Again have I to speak of the Divine goodness in sending me most affectionate letters from Mr and Mrs Colquhoun and Mr Wilson, and favourable accoimts indirectly, of the state of mind in which my dear friend. Sir D. K. Sandford, died on the 4th February.

*’ Blessed be God for the kindness of friends, and for that good news from a far coimtry which is like cold water to a thirsty soul.

Surely in all things I may trust His grace. Yes! I will trust and not be afraid. Felt some encouragement and comfort in drawing near to God, and committing myself to the Redeemer. Oh that I knew the blessedness of close communion with him — of being taken into the secret of his presence!’

Thursday, lid March 1838. ‘Saw last night, in a Glasgow paper, mention mad of the death of Mr George Forsyth, a student of dirinity, of about my own age, and seemingly a far better life. “He that hath ears,” &c.’

* Friday y 23i Ma/rch 1838.

‘This day month Mr Forsyth died, probably after a brief warning. My warning has been longer — so long as to leave no excuse for indifference. And it has been pretty explicit; for I have always believed, and now (speaking as a man) feel convinced, that this disease of the lungs will carry me off. lmay live for months; but as to recovery, unless by some remarkable aid from on high, vain is the help of man. I record this, with the prayer, that the Spirit may make i€ effectual for keeping my thoughts upon God and eternity.

‘I hare often, while in perfect health, and with such an end far, Terj £aT^ from my expectations, wished to die of consumption. And now that jnj wish is likelj to he gratified, I see the wajs of God in remoying men from this world are more equal than I had imagined. If the man who is seized hj acute and rapid disease has too little time to think — a chronic maladj, to the corrupt heart, seems to give too much. If the one case is so pressing as to bewilder, the other is regarded as so little pressing that the poor patient delays his great concern. If the one is overwhelmed, the other is enervated. If the one is “consumed with terrors, as it were, in a moment,” the other is flattered by hopes, and deluded by appearances of amendment. If eternity overpowers and prostrates the one by its near approach, it seems to recede and flee from the other.

In thus speaking, I allude to the effects natundlff produced in a depraved mind. The Spirit alone, in either case, can counteract them. And as every one best feels his own burden, I now see what special aids are required to keep a consumptive invalid frtpm settling down into moveless lethargy. — E/jj fot xv ^’ l9y(rou Xg/tfrou. Afynv*

* Thursday, 6ik April 1838.

I have been perplexed about the matter of duty in going home or staying here during the summer. May the Lord undertake for me, and show me by his providence what I ought to do, so that it may be done in confidence of faith!

‘Finished Oweh on Psalm cxxx.; and record, for the use and benefit of my soul, one short sentence from it, — “Spiritual peace and sloth will never dwell together in the same soul and conscience”

* The perusal of this book has made me resokf more on waiting upon God. Surely joy will come ij

* May grace be given me, through Jesuf Christ. Amen.

•WAITING UPON GOD. 169

tmij let me be of good courage, and He will strengthen my heart.’

‘Friday, 6th AprU 1838,

* “And I will wait upon the Lord, that hideth his face from the house of Jaeoh, and I will look for him.” — Isaiah viii. 17.

‘Patient waiting upon God seems to be a duty to which I am now particularly called. Hitherto it has been often ruined in me b(5th by impatience and by sloth. I have either ^m^6rc?, and giren up in a ten- porary despair, or (the more frequeht case) I have limited the Holy One of Israel; and because spiritual comfort did not come just when I wanted it, or by the duties in which I expected to have found it, I have waxed froward and lost all the benefit. I see and deeply bewail the folly of such conduct. What am I that I should let my will loose upon those times and seasons which the Father hath kept in his own power? that I should prescribe a limit to the sovereign, all-wise, all-bountiful God? and fret, forsooth, because bis disposals differ from those which my pre-* sumption and selfishness would have dictated?

‘Blessed be his name, my eyes are now, in part at least, opened to the sin of this. I abhor myself) and repent in dust and ashes. And, in the strength of the Holy Ghost, I resolve quietly to wait his time. Meanwhile, during the season that the vision of his blessed reconciled countenance tarries, may he at least encircle me with his everlasting arm, and keep me from fainting. Oh for the attitude of the servant whose loins are girt! — the frame of silent, adoring, humble, hoping expectation! Lord, sustain and quicken me: raise me from the dust: visit me with thy salvation!

And may I be taught also to look for Him in all ordinances and means; in reading his Word, prayer, praise, and Christian communion; in holy medita* tion; in stirring up my heart to lay hold on him; in endearouring to meet Jesus at his own table! Gire me, Lord, me preparation of the sanctuary for tlus holy serrice, whenever thou pemiittest me to engage in it. Lift up the Redeemer, with power, before me; and bow me down before the Cross of Christ. Amen.’

‘Saturday, 1th April 1838.

* How precious also are thj thoughts unto me, O God! how great is the sum of them! If I should count them, they are more in number than the sand.” — Psalm cxxxix. 17, 18.

Such, certainly, and more (if more could be said) are the words of praise I owe to God my Maker. May He give me this song in the night of affliction, to extol and magnify his name for all his past and present mercies! And how great is the sum of them! Food and raiment, and support in comfort, etU my days; many and endeared friends; a most affectionate father; a mother, whose memory is sweet; a sister, whose very life seems bound up in mine; the dearest and most devoted affection from many whom blood in no way joined to me, — my pupils, my Sabbath scholars, and others whom I love; opportunities of the best kind for intellectual improYement; a mind in some measure fitted to use them’; kind patrons to notice and cheer my progress: — the blessing of an evangelical ministry; the prayers and instructions of an evangelical professor of divinity; the society of the very life of Edinburgh, as well as Glasgow, for piely and talent; in particular, the example and faithftd

reproofs of: — success in almost

all my literary and professional undertakings :* — many deliverances t various times; in particular, at Loch Frochy, where I was nearly drowned from a £shing skiff in 1826; in Rutherglen, where I fell unhurt from the dickey of a coach; at Glasford, where I lost my eye, but had my life saved, in 1827; and at Cramond, this day twelve months [[wrong, it was on the 2 2d], where 1 narrowly escaped death by an

REHEHBEBING IfERCIES* 171

unguarded leap: — a continued course for manj years of health and high spirits, which enabled me, although sinning fearfully in the matter of indolence, to do something in study and in public exertion: — this sickness, which has thrown me inward (I hope in mercy) upon my own soul: — the kind sympathies of friends at its commencement, Dr Alison, Mrs Hamilton, Mrs Ramsay, and others; Dr Watson’s providential advice to. come to Madeira; the generous and

prompt, offers of Messrs; the kind sympathies

of all: — our short voyage; our location in a small boarding-house: — the unexpected abundance of Christian friends, Cadell, Bond, Ashe, Langford, Hull, Dr

Smith: — Dr Renton s frankness as a

medical adviser, and the goodness of many sympathizing friends: — the providential warnings afforded by 80 many deaths, especially those of Mr Forsyth and Sir Daniel Sandford — these make a sum of mercies which I cannot compute. And to these must be added another infinite — something far above and beyond our poor conceptions — in the promises and hopes of the Gospel.

* Surely goodness and mercy have followed me all the days of my life.’ ....

Sabbath, Sth April 1838.

* * What! shall we receive good at the hand of God, and shall we not receive evil?” — Job u. 10.

It is difficult for the flesh to say this; Tea, no one can truly say it but by the Spirit of Grod. I praise his name that in some poor measure I can, at this time, feel the excellence of such submission. When I think of the incident of 22d April 1837, when I was mercifully preserved from sudden death, and the altered feelings with which I can now look upon eternity, the Divine goodness appears marvellously displayed in this dispensation. My own impatient spirit might sometimes have been apt to think that it

172 JiBkfOIB OF JAMBB HALLET.

bad been better then to die without all this langoidiing; but, ill prepared as I am now, I was worse then, and 80 I can see great mercy in this protracted sickness. I know (Job xi. 6) that Ghod exacteth of me” far less than mine iniquity deserretb;” and I do, with some measure of heartiness, adopt as my own the prophet’s resolution, / udil bear the indignation of the Lord, because I hare sinned agst him.” (Micah Tii. 9.)

‘We haye had a new trial to-day, in the arriyal of the Dart,” which is to carry away from us unexpectedly soon, our dearest Madeira friends, in the

. The want of letters, also, is trying to

faith. Yet we know who it is that giveth bread to the hungry.’

* Sabbath, I5ih Apnl 1838.

This is Easter-day, which many of the churches of Christ regard with peculiar veneration, as the day of his resurrection. I sat down at His table, with the solemn conviction, that, of the congregation who did so here to-day, one-half will never again meet on earth in the same way. K^I can at all presume to judge of my own feelings, they were those of a sinner in need of erery thing, coming to Christ, as a Saviour who can cleanse all sin, and bestow all grace, €ind hope, and joy. Had some enlargement of heart in commending to Christ, at his own table, those Christian frien£ with whom we meet no more; and especially in asking for the all joy and peace in believing.

Surely the Shepherd of the sheep will keep them even unto the end.

Tried to recollect and pray against my most besetting sins. I find, alas! that their name is Legion. But as I did endeavour, in simplicity of soul, to give myself to Christ, I trust he will give me some gracious mark of his acceptance of so poor an oblation, in subduing sin within me, and making me more entirely bis own.” Thunday, 26tA ApHl 1838.

‘The s sailed.

Oh God, it hath pleased thee to take from us the desire of our hearts, and the light of our eyes, as fiar as the temporal good of friends is concerned. May it please thee to he with them on the waters; may the Redeemer uphold them from sinking; may they he strong in faith, giving glory to thee. Be thou with them as the God of peace, guiding them to their home in safety, and giving them a happy and holy meeting with their friends. And may we, who are hehind in this land of death, possess our souls in patience, and look for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal life. Be thou far more to us than they could ever he; and, while the remembrance of them is sweet, may it also be sanctified. And give us a happy meeting — here if it please thee; if not, at least there where there is no night of sorrow or parting: through Jesus Christ. Amen.’

Sabbath, 29th AprU 1838.

* Was confined in the forenoon hut heard Mr Lowe in the afremoon on Jude 11, — the character of Balaam, — a moral discourse, vnth various delineations of character, but scarcely a reference to the Cross of Christ.

‘Through the important spiritual advantages I have enjoyed, I think I do see the central position which that Cross occupies in the scheme of divine truth. How great the responsibility which such knowledge involves! Oh that the heart were affected in proportion as the head is informed! Oh that I were made to glory in the Cross of Christ, by which the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world! Oh for more of this wholesome crucifixion — of earthly desires destroyed, that the heavenly may grow! Lord, subdue me to thyself; captivate me to thyself; let me find my satisfaction solely in thee. “The Lord is hij portion, saith my soul; therefore will I hope in him.” It is good that a man both hope and quietly wait

174. MEMOIR OF JAMES RALLBT*

for the salTation of the Lord.” “The Lord is faithful.” Even so. Amen.’

We inyite the attention of ministers of the Grospd to this last short extract. The reproof of unthfiiipreachiDg is mitten in a tone of meekness, which shows clearly the power of renewing grace, softening the naturally ardent mind of our departed friend; hut the reproof itself is more cutting far than if it had been presented in a strain of confident rsdling. Ministers who do not with all their hearts preach. Christ crucified, should know that erery inquiring penitent hearer feels the preaching to be miserable comfort, though few be able to tell where the defect lies, * Woe is unto me if I preach not the Gospel! ’ * A moral discourse, with various deHneations of character,* will not satisfy souls that are longing for the living God.

The next letter is given as a specimen of the searching examination to which Mr Halley was in the habit of subjecting himself. It is certain that, sometimes during the couie of his disease, he manifested a perverse ingenuity in finding out hard things against himself; but it may be instructive to read his own account of the process, even in those cases where he carried his reasonings too far. The prevailing sin is, not the excess, but the want of such self-examination; and the keenness with which such a man searched his own sins, may rebuke the carelessness of the many who never concern themselves about the matter, — who heal their wound slightly, and cry Peace, when there is no peace.

To explain the allusion in the introductory sentence, the reader must bear in mind that the 1st of May was the day on ‘vrhich the annual distribution of prizes was made in the university of Glasgow. The ’ light ’ of the college is the late Sir Daniel K. Sandford, Professor of Greek.

* FuxrcHAL, Madeira, 2d May 1S38.

* My dear A — I meant to have commenced

the present epistle to you yesterday; but lost the opportunity, by means of falling into one of those interminable conversations with Janet, which you can so well understand; for many has been the time I have held them with yourself. It would have been pleasant, somehow (and yet I cannot tell how, for I weep as I think of it), to have begun it on theyr** of May — a day once of no small excitement, in the anticipation, to you and me; but now — to one of us at least-^d remembrancer of much unholy striving, with faculties, which, if better directed, might have glorified €kpd. I could not help, yesterday, thinking of many friends; of the light of Glasgow college, now, alas! gone. down; of poor Ivory and Mackintosh, to whom their rewards would lose half their sweetness; and of the current of reflection which I imagined was likely to carry Mackail, and Morrison, and Denniston, — perhaps even yourself in the midst of all your labours, and certainly my poor father, — to this distant island of the sea. “Well! it is all over; but, I trust, not the lesson that” childhood and youth are vanity.’*

‘Ydur much wished-for letter, dated 9th February, reached me on the 18th of April. If you knew the good it did me, and the inexpressible delight with which I have perused and reperused it, you would write oftener, and by a more direct way

‘God forbid you should ever be fully satisfied with your own preaching: then, indeed, one might mourn over you; but, meantime, as you are determined not to stand still, so I trust, by God’s blessing, you will never be permitted to do so; but be content to culti*

Tftte a restless spirit of improYement and adyancemeoft in your holy art of winning souls here in hope of the rest that remaineth hereafter, I am vecy grateful for your kind concern about me in regard to the one thing needful. It were well if all who inquire about my health had the same solicitude for my soul’s pros* perity« My heart was ever open to you, and I could always tell you more than I could tell any one else; but the time and manner of this inquiry have given me a greater willingness than ever to pour out to you all that I feel on the grand theme of my salvation. Yet I can only speak with stammering lips on this subject; for it is hard for another to imagine how the constant hurry of activity, in which I had for many years been involved, disqualified me for sellinspection, — how, while cumbered and troubled about many things, — connected even as these were with the kingdom of Christ, — I had forgotten the one thing, drifted away from my anchorage, and lost almost dl ability to decide on the bearings of my course.

Let me, then, with shame and sorrow, confess, that I am not yet out of that dubious and equivocal state in which I was when I last wrote you. I have a clear intellectual perception and conviction- of the utter ruin of my own nature; every hour s experience painfully convinces me, that in me there dwelleth no good thing; I know — perhaps sometimes 1 feel — that by the works of the law I cannot be justified. My mouth is stopped; and though God were to cast me off for ever, I do believe that he would be clear in thus judging. Then, my judgment is equally satisfied on the leading outlines of God’s scheme of recovery; in particular, that Emmanuel’s atonement is enough for all sin, and any sinner who will receive him; that his righteousness, when relied on, is a sure title to glory; that his Spirit, dispensed to all who ask him truly, is omnipotent to make us meet for the inheritance. All this I receive as the word of the truth of i

the Gospel; and I try to found upon it a surrender of myself to this Saviour, and a constant looking upward for promised grace. Let me give a specimen of each: When iniquities prevail against me, as they often do, and I fall or rush into sins, known to he such, and therefore wounding to my conscience, I endeavour, as soon as I can, to bring them and lay them (in trusting supplication) on the head of the scape-goat — where the Lord hath laid the iniquities of us all; and again, when I am about to commence the perusal of any hook, it has long been my habit to. ask for. spiritual light, that I may be able to separate between the chaif and the wheat, and that even secular knowledge (if it relates to this), or mental refreshment (if that is all I am seeking), may be sanctified in its possession and use. But, in such applications as these, of the two co-ordinate truths of atonement and spiritual aid for Christ’s sake, I feel on all hands beset with snares, and so perplexed and bewildered, through the deceitfulness of sin, that I am often ready to take up Asaph’s language in Psalm lxxiii. 22. In the first of the cases above mentioned, by way of example, I am often embarrassed by the thought, that this constant interchange of sinning, and then going to the Lamb of God, is, in effect, something very like making Christ the minister of sin; and this awful reflection is confirmed by the consciousness, that my reference to the cross of Christ is only made after I sin, and not before it; that it supervenes as a cure rather than precedes as a preventive; and that, when I try to analyse my feelings upon abstaining from any thing because it is sinfd I rather find myself affected with its danger, than with the ingenuous and Gospel feeling, “He loved me, and gave himself for me.” And, in the second case, I frequently want confidence in asking the Divine guidance, from a secret knowledge that my request may justly be refused, on account, either (1)> of insincerity, — as when I ask a blessing on a book which I have preyionsly determined to read fast, and finish by a certain time, whether it be digested or not, — or, (2), of exertion misapplied, as when I am reading a human exposition of Scriptore doctrine or duty with too little reference to the fivelj oracles. Often, on such occasions, I have no resource but to say, “When my spirit is oyerwhelmed, iken. Thou knowest my path;” and to confess myself all weakness, and helplessness, and misery. Now, what I have just given, is only a specimen of my houiiy failures in appropriating Gospel truths. I do fed a sad want of simplicity and godly sincerity in resting upon Christ for every thing needful.

‘It occurs to me also, that surely a steady dependence upon the Redeemer for righteousness and strength, did it exist at all within me, would produce an increasing love to Him, and more meltings of spirit when I think of Him as “The crucified,” But of this growth of feeling I am in no wise conscious; nor can any such emotion in me claim the character of intensity. Farther, I know that “this is the victory that overcometh the world, even our faith;” and that, if &it]i were here, some conquests over a worldly spirit, and over besetting lusts and sins, ought in time to be manifest. Yet all seems to be at a stand-still in that respect. The sins that do easily beset me, — as indolence, censoriousness, spiritual indifference, &c., are still constantly leading me captive; and, partly from the intensely worldly spirit of this place, — partly from the nature of my complaint, which, though it warns of death long never warns loudly — and partly from various subordinate temptations, I have been somehow, too frequently, looking back to this earth, — although I knew that its fashion passeth away, and my prevailing judgment was, that I had done with it for ever. In particular, I feel that even the mercies wherewith God has encircled me, have been thus made a snare to me; and that the refreshment I experienced during the many hours I spent Mdth our dear friends the, was often, through my exceeding sinfulness, made the means of withdrawing me from secret communings with mj own soul ana the Invisible.

* On the other hand, — for no tongue can tell how willingly I would be alive to any thing encouraging — it is certain that I have of late thought more of eternity, — that an imn world is never long out of my mind. I can look to death with some steadiness; and I have never lost hope. Only the prevailing tendency and character of my mind induces a fear that insensibility may have more to do with this than faith. Yet I pray to be delivered from this; I try

to realize the truth that Christ has overcome death, and to view Him as the Captain of my salvation; and I can always mourn that I know so little of “the anchor of the soul.” And, although I daily detect my thoughts wandering to and fro over the earth, just as if I had many days to spend in it, — and know the bitterness of having too many of my heart-strings twined round earthly objects, — yet I do believe that the leading desire of my soul on this side the grave, is to possess and hold fast a good hope through grace in reference to the other. But “my soul cleaveth to the dust;” I can only look upward and say, “Quicken thou me according to thy word,” ....

* In summer we shall have Madeira pretty much to ourselves. ‘Tis a sad emblem — this island — of our mortal state. Our dearest friends lay among the strangers, and they are all on the wing. Mr Cadell,

the, the, go probably next week; the

Freeman’s, and Ashe, and Langford, soon after; and probably our next meeting will be at the judgment-seat of Christ. We have just had time to value each other; and then the spell is broken. But, after losing

the, which we did last week, other partings

will be comparatively easy. Should the resting-place of my dust be within their reach, I am sure two are added to the number of those who will go to the grave

to weep there

Shall I add, that, in our religious exercises wi them, in commending them to God and to the word of his grace, either from natural affectionate feeling, or a temporary victory over unbelief, I had some comfort: I could even, sometimes, anticipate a meeting, without the biting reflection that I had neither part nor lot in it — in our Father’s kingdom. And I can often see that every thing belongs to faith; and feel, that, if I but knew myself a believer, I could rest every thing on that word, “The Lord is faithful, who shall stablish you, and keep you from evil.” ....

* The God of peace be with you! — Your ever grateful friend, J. H.*

We recur again to the journal, and present, at foil length, another specimen of the manner in which Mr Halley, in his own practice, remembered the works of the Lord.’

Sabbath, Sth May 1838.

‘Heard Mr Lowe on John xvi. 12, 13, in the forenoon; and John xvi. 30, 31, in the afternoon. Baptismal regeneration eight times inculcated; scarcely any sound Christianity at all. I have to mourn before God over the criticising spirit in which I heard him. It was difficult to do otherwise; but I ought to have remembered, “Who art Ihou that judgest anotheis servant?”

* Blessed be God, mv frame was better after returning from church. I had a sensible pleasure in thinking how many of God’s dear children are this day commemorating the Redeemer s death in Edinburgh, and how faithfully His great Atonement would be preached to them. Sometimes I almost think that my soul longeth for these favoured courts of the Lord.’

* “Whoso is wise, and will observe these things even they shall understand the loving-kindness of the Lord.”-^ PsALif cvii. 43.

***! will remember the works of the Lord.” — Psalm lxxvii. 11.

‘Such is David’s advice and practice in regard to noticing the course of events in providence. It is a profitable study, if the Spirit deign to shine on it. Imploring his aid, I would now look back to this day twelvemonths — the memorable Saturday on which I was taken ill.

* On the morning of that day, I breakfasted with my dear friends the Hamiltons, — Smeaton, Mackintosh, and John Cunningham being present. I conducted their family worship. The Psalm sung was the lxxiii., verses 24-26; and I remember, to this hour, with a glow of feeling, the happy way in which we sung it. I have no doubt that a majority, of those who then joined in it were renewed persons; and it was no ordinary privilege to hear God’s children thus claiming and exulting in their relation to him. Since then, strange to say, I have formed some new and strong attachments upon earth. Yet some ties also have been broken. Surely / am more willing to be and to do nothing, if the Lord is pleased to say that he hath no need of me here. Surely / do feel more of a pilgrim spirit. But still, this sad gravitation earthwards, which nothing less can remove than that mighty power, which was shown forth in Christ, when God raised him from the dead. Oh for fresh and constant quickening!

* Then walked down with the Hamiltons to Newhayen, where, on the quay — how true an emblem of our short meetings here — we saw my dear friend John Tait, who was about to embark next Monday for New South Wales. In him, ever since I knew him, the grace of our Lord has been exceeding abundant. He has now, doubtless, entered on his work; may

A I

the Spirit of the Lprd be with him! And let me be humbled by the reflection, that, while he, and Chalmers, and Stevenson, and Amot, and Sutherland, and Smeaton, and others of my companions in study, hare obtained part in this glorious ministry, — it should hare been needful, on account of my indolence, worldlinesS) coldness, and unholiness, — that the great Head of the Church should not allow me ^’ to be put in trust with the Gospel.” Let me kiss this — his heayiest rod. He layeth on me far less than my sins deserve.

Crossed to Burntisland, where, meeting Dr Chalmers, I was taken to his house, and spent the day with him. Thus were my last hours of comparatiye health spent in converse with one, whom it is a privilege to have known — for he has been blessed of Crod to many souls. Little did I think, when I left him, that we should never meet more on earth, — which now it seems likely we never shall.

I rode to Aberdour, faint and oppressed with headache. Imagining that I had only some slight cold, I went early to bed, took some medicine, and expected to be well on the morrow. However, it would not do: I had to stay at home firom church; and, I recollect, occupied myself in bed in reading ^’ Clarkson on Faith.” On the Monday, along with Chalmers and the Rev. Mr Robertson, I crossed to Edinburgh, very ill; took a long farewell of Tait, in which (aJas! how vainly!) I spoke of holding the rope while he went down into the missionary pit; went to my lodgings, and was laid up by an inflammation, which, though slight at the time, met with so little resistance from a broken constitution, that it has landed me first in Madeira, and may ultimately bring me down to the house appointed for all living.

‘At the time when it attacked me, I little thought of death. The fair prospect lay before me of being licensed, whenever I might wish it, to preach the

Gospel. But I was too little thoughtful in the prospect of so great a work; and I now see, in some measure, the Divine wisdom in preventing the effects of my rashness. I see, besides, that, had I begun to preach with such sickly lungs, probably the bursting of some blood-vessel, and a still more speedy dissolution, would have ensued. God, in kindness, stopped me, that I might have more space for repentance and preparation for eternity, ere I should go hence and b no more. O for grace to use it aright!’

We gladly give place to the next two entries — an example of self-examination. The most remarkable feature of it, is the clearness of judgment — the precision of thought that runs throughout. We have had exhibitions elsewhere of the Christian philosopher: here we have the philosophic Christian. We have been accustomed to think of minds imbued with the &ith of the Gospel, applied to science and hallowing it: here we have a mind disciplined to the utmost by human learning, applying all its resources directly to matters of faith. It is, blessed be God, no rare thing to meet with piety equal to that displayed in the following extract; it is the strength of understanding, and logical precision of thought, here brought to bear on the subject of piety, to which we specially invite the reader s regard. Let those who, possessed of a knowledge ’ spread wide, but thin ’ — a knowledge extending over many subjects, but not going deep into any, — are thereby emboldened to lay aside practical religious concern, as fit only for weak minds — let them read the meditation which follows, and judge whether they are the weak-minded who keep, or who cast off their faith. We have here a truly great mind bowing down in prostrate humility before God, and

•earching his Word: let the saperficial sceptic read, and tremhle.

* Friday, 1 lth May 1838.

* Having spent, on Wednesday, a sleepless night, I found my mind yesterday too feeble to make any progress in the work of self-examination on which I had entered. To-day, I have been much kept away from it by various engagements; yet have been enabled to do a little. At no grand decisiv,e result have I yet arrived. But the steps of my progress, hitherto, are these: —

‘I reviewed, at considerable length, the Scripture testimony regarding justification, especially on these two points: — 1. That it is by faith alone in Christ’s righteousness and sacrifice; 2. That it is, on the part of God, a complete and irrevocable act. Fully satisfied, once more, on scriptural grounds of these, — seeing the inexpressible blessedness of a believers state, — and convinced that the grand question is, “Have I apprehended Christ by faith?” I set about the inquiry whether I am indeed a believer — not in word only — but vitally and in truth. Two ways appeared of solving this: — 1. Seeing whether, in my present sentiments and feelings, so far as I can directly observe and -analyse them, there is any thing corresponding to the scriptural descriptions of faith, in its general nature 2. Ascertaining its presence or absence indirectly, by the appearance or non-appearance of ii& fruits. What appeared on applying these tests, I hope to record to-morrow.

* It is a year to-day since I delivered my two last discourses before Edinburgh Presbytery — a lecture on Haggai ii. 6-9, and a critical exercise on Heb. ix. 28. It has been a trial, difficult to the flesh to bear, to think that the end for which I delivered them will probably, now, never be accomplished, — my becoming a licentiate of the Church of Scotland. I pray God to sanctify to me this crushing disappointment. My best dedres on earth are withered. that a longing for heavenly rest were to flourish in proportion! Surelj God has brought me into the wilderness, that be may speak comfortahly to me.’

^Sahbathy lth May 1838.

* Forenoon: Mr GuiUemard on Rom. xiv. 7-9, — an excellent sermon, on charity in judging of differences among brethren, and Christ’s unalienable right to the loTe and obedience of his professing people.

Resumed my work of self-humiliation and self-scrutiny.

’ Let ns search and try our ways, and turn again to the Lord.” — Lam. iii. 40.

M. In my present feelings, so far as I can directly obsenre them, is there any thing agreeing to the Scripture accounts of faith? In answering this question, I would desire a ^irit of especial caution; for in nothing is the danger of self-deception greater, than in directly observing one’s own feelings, — when it is very manifest on which side it is most desirable to obtain a verdict. It would be my prayer that I may keep this in mind and that the Spirit of truth may preserve me from deluding my own soul.

Is faith, then, in the simplest idea of it, a looking to Jesus for salvation (Isa. xlv. 52), as the wounded Israelites looked to the brazen serpent for health? (John iii. 14.) Surely, I look nowhere else; my nope is in Him. Is it Q,fieeing to him as a refuge F (Heb. vi. 18.) I feel as one beat out of every other stronghold, and takmg shelter with him as my hiding-place from the storm. Is it a receiving him as ofiPered in the Gospel? (John i. 12.) And how is he offered? As a Prince and a Saviour. If I do not thus receive him, it is the prime desire of my soul to be enabled to do so. Is it submitting to his righteousness? (Rom. X. 3.) It is at least a matter of deep conviction and heartfelt acknowledgment with me, that I have none 186 MEMOIB OF JAMBS HALXiSr*

of my own. And God forbid that pride should binder me from being a beggar of bis bounty. Is it commit’’ ting the soul to him? (2 Tim. i. 12.) “Lord, into thy hands I commit my spirit.” Is it taking hold of his strength? (Isa. xxTii. 5.) Surely the genuine language of my soul is, “Lord help me, or I perish.” Is it hungering and thirsting for his righteousness? (Matt. y. 6.) “My soul fainteth for thy salyation.’ Is it trusting and confiding in his grace implicitly, as the centuricm, the woman of Canaan, and the woman with the issue, did in their respective distresses? Though it were but as a grain of mustard-seed, this trust is what I most long after. / will trusty by his Spirit’s power,” and not be afraid.* Yes, Lord! / do trust thee, for thou art faithful who has promised, — Jesus Christ the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever!

‘So far, then, as direct observation of feelings can go, I am rather drawn to the conclusion — the blessed conclusion, (oh that I could draw it more decidedly!) that I have some part in this most precious faith. Yet the lines are not dear and strong. ‘^ Strengthen, O God, that which thou hast wrought for us.** Work in me mightily; and put it beyond all doubt that I am a believer, — a sinner relying on the finished work of Christ, and born again of a seed that is incorruptible. Amen.

’ 2. In my conduct and feelings of late, have there appeared any of the fruits of faith? For the tree is known by its fruit. (I.) Pence with God? (Rom. v. 1.) Some kind of quietness I have generally enjoyed; although I cannot but look on much of it as spurious, and the fruit rather of insensibility than^of faith. Yet, in all seasons of distress from sin, I have tried to ‘^ run to the name of the Lord,” as my “strong tower.” (2.) Confidence in pray erf (Eph. iii. 12.) Here I come altogether short. I am either much afraid, or (much more commonly) rash, and thoughtless, and wandering. The only comfort is, I have always explicit mental reference to Christ’s merits. Pardon, O Lord, the sins and ahominations of my prayers! (3.) Love to God? (Luke vii. 43.) Here, again, I am Torced to cry, “My leanness!” Seldom, if ever, can I trace any pure working of this glorious principle. My views centre so much in self, that I seem as if I had never really cared for God’s glory. O for a heart to love him! O for the promise of the new covenant! (4.) Love to man? (Gal. v. 6.) I think I see more love to God’s children, and would bless his name that so many of them care and pray for me. But my heart is, like too many invalids, occupied too much writh myself. Lord, have mercy upon me, and enable me to use opportunities, of doing good to others. (5.) Estahlishment against temptations? (2 Cor. i. 21, 24.) My strength is indeed small; and a trifle, I find, is still powerful to turn me aside. One of my besetting sins, for which I desire to humble myself before Gt)d, has very great dominion over me; yea, rather, my masters are many. Inward temptations, I bless God, do not greatly afflict me. (6.) Victory over the world? (1 John v. 4.) Surely I am now less devoted to forming schemes for time; and my idols are fewer: alas! that I cannot say they are all de throned. Yet I can say that I abandon this world as the rest of my soul. Lord, help me to live daily and hourly in the spirit of this good confession. (7.) Joy f (Psal. xl. 3; Rom. v. 11.) To this fruit of faith my heart has been entirely a stranger. Let me resolve, in the Spirit’s strength, to wait till God, in sovereignty, is pleased to give me this joy. I cannot claim it; all my desert is eternal sorrow. Yet, possibly, weeping may endure but for a night. But even should this night extend over all that remains to me of life, I would pray for patience still to wait for him, — trusting that, through Christ, joy shall come in the morning of my entrance upon another world. (8.) Hope f

1 88 MEMOm OF JAMES HALLKT.

rBom. XT. 13; CoL i. 27-) Tes; I hare some hope for eternity. Forbid, Lord, that it should be Ihe perishing hope of the hypocrite. Can I not say with David, “My hope is in Thee?” “To thee, O Lord, do I lift up my soul.” Yet this is idnt and flickering; and, through the defect of my £uth, I dwell not, and live not, as I ought, among ilungs unseen.

In looking back over this list, I find that I can refer, in my experience, to nothing that can be called a sure unambiguous fruit of fidth. The most &- Tourable are 5 and 8; and the first of these may be explained, perhaps, in some measure, by my plain perception of my present circumstances. I have a v€ut amount of sin to set against all this — much of it so wilful as to have brought merited darkness on my soul. But, knowing that, eren in God’s children, ^’ the flesh lusteth against the spirit,” I would not regard many workings of corruption as conclusiTe against a man, if he had clear marks of faith to show otherwise. The present inquiry is embarrassed by want of clearness in my evidences. Let this stir me up to watchfulness; let me praise God that I am not left to utter despair; let me beware of resting on this examen; and let me look to. the Lamb of God.’

The next letter is of very great length, and on a great variety of subjects. We extract only small portions om diflerent places.

* Madeira, btk June 1838. My dear James, — The longest and most elaborate letter which I have yet written from Madeira, was indited on the 8th and 9th December, and addressed to yourself. I had it committed to the Captain of the Portuguese packet, which sails (occasionsdly) between this and Lisbon, and he promised to put it in the post-office there; but, as appears by yours of the Ist March, it has never reached its destination. This is no small disappointment, as I had asked you to make my father master of its leading contents, and as my subsequent letters to him and Glasgow friends proceeded very mudi on the hypothesis that they were in possession of those introductory facts and first impressions which I had conyeyed to you

‘You know on what my heart, amid many fightings without, and fears within, was iset; and, although I was ofi;en so indolent that I seemed without an object, yet if I ever had an aim at all for some years past, it was towafds the service of God in the ministry. The present state of my lungs leaves me scarcely room to doubt that it has been His will to disappoint that aim. At some times I have felt as if my soul could choose strangling and death, rather than life without preaching. Yet Renton tells me, that, so far as he yet sees, I may live for some considerable time in fiivourable circumstances, but can never preach. When I came here first, and saw some who have been many years laid aside from any labour, I involuntarily shuddered when I thought how imfit, because of inward rebellion, I would be to bear the like: yet it is possibly the all-wise plan of the Father of lights thus to teach me to be still, and know that he is God. In the meantime, I labour — and no small labour it often is-«-to reconcile myself to a punishment which I once thought greater than I could bear — that of not being “allowed of God to be put in trust with the Gx)spel;” and to persuade myself, that, if it is His will to e me, he mil pioyide some work for me, although it were only as a door-keeper in his house. As to any probability of being spared, I do not think that my chance admits of so favourable a designation. I only continue to stay here so long as those who are his almoners enable me, because I take the decided advice of a plain-speaking physician to be such a providential hint as suffices to mark out our duty, although it cannot assure us of any result, — and because I wish practically to believe that “with God nothing is impossible” The freedom from blood-spitting for a few dayg, and my partialij recruited strength, are, pro tanto encouragements; and a good augury may be drawn from the improyement of my breathing during any little heats which the siroc has yet given us. But the intense heat of August matt lower, or it may excite me, to an alarming degree, — in either of which cases Dr Renton would send me home. If neither of these happens, and if I am enabled to exercise a moderate degree of caution, the air is so mild in summer, that he apprehends no unfavourable change, and .there is just a possibility of improyement. On this possibility he adyises me to stay. If it were pronounced out of th question that I should do more than stand my ground in summer, I should directly come home; for it would then be evident that next winter would terminate the contest, and I would rather (God willing) that it should end on British ground. No doubt it were sad to leave Madeira under such an impression, and thus deliberately resign all connection with this warm and breathing world; yet, if, by the abounding grace of God, I had but a glimpse of “joy set before” me, I think He would minister strength for that triaL But there is just a possibility of something more; a ^’ maybe” which yet binds me to continue this experiment To be sure, unbelieving fear will often suggest, “What if the experiment should stand still in summer, and you should get suddenly worse at a season at which removal would be madness?” I can only answer this question by turning it out of doors, as having too bold and inquisitive a reference to those “times and seasons which the Father hath kept in his own power.” And were I but sure of my union to Him, in whose hands are placed the keys of death and the grave, I could give it a more direct and triumphant answer.

pray for me, that I may be able to say, “If I die even here, I am not alone, for the Father is with me.”

1 very much need your prayers, and those of all who love me, for repentance and the remission of sins, for

BE8IRB TO BE UfiEFITL. 191

a spiritual discernment of God’s design in chastising me, for submission, humility, faith, and a hope that ‘entereth into that within the vail. ...

This digression ended, I go on with my schemes. If Gumming * has nothing you think would suit me, do you yourself know any subject on which I am qualified, or might qualify myself to write, which might suit the present exigencies of our Church and cxpuntry? In the vast field of Christian truth there are surely spots as yet but little cultivated, which might yield a good and seasonable produce? I have more time to think than I erer had, although my opportunities of reading are greatly curtailed, and that time I am anxiously desirous to deyote to some useful purpose. Can you see no theme fit for this time, and fit for me? The Oxford heresy, of which I daily see how it is eating out the vitals, and sucking the heart s blood (x alfML /Mv ^omT ^uvoixuv) of the Church of England, is a subject near my heart; but on it I f«ar I could not write without documents, and a corpus patrum, Farthermore, is there no bookseller s job, by way of an Introductory Essay, or the like, which could be edged my way? You may enjoy my fertility in expedients: pray tell me, as well as you can, if any, and which of them is feasible. And, as a gifl is doubled by being soon given, don’t be long in arming me with your judgment.

.... I came here a red-hot Presbyterian; I am now excandescent, I have had something of an inside look at the Anglican Church, and have discovered more than I knew or suspected of its want of theologiod education, its feebleness of discipline, and its naughtiness of bearing. And, on this nearer inspection, I think we have a mighty deal less occasion to be overawed by its learning than I had formerly imagined

The Rer. James Cumming of Edinbiusb, was then editor of the Presbyterian Beview.

192 MEHOm OF JAMBS HALLBT.

Some of these Anglican clergy were truly excd’ lent and estimable; yet even in mem I could observe the effect of that want of direct divinity trainwg which is the greatest of that Church’s deficiencies.... I now ghry in the name of a member, and think it an honour even to have been on the way to become a minister of the Church of Scotland. On the fint Sabbath of May, your sacramental Sabbath, I could not help rejoicing in spirit at the power, and faithfblness, and touching tenderness with which I was soie the pure Gospel of our Lord Jesus was being proclaimed in Edinburgh. ^’ How amiable are thy tab nacles! My soul longeth,” &c.

‘I had almost forgot to notice the breaking of my promise about collecting plants for you. The ground is so utterly impracticable on foot, that I have done, and I fear, unless some marked improyement takes place, can do nothing. It is easy to be generous c priori; but I hare found that broken wind and perpendicular rocks are about incompatibles.

Shall I amuse you and Smeaton with some Chreekl I don’t wish my “si quid olium Ittsit’* to be quite lost; so here go two stanzas, inserted in some copies of ‘’ Ken’s Evening Hymn,” and done into tragic tiimeters sometime in January: —

2. Zfiv yoLg TO hfiffXiiVj H re xa/nsTv vvog yXyxu, saw fAovov fiot “TT^iVfiiVTig Tafi &£og,

svds/v yevoir ow sirs xat 6avs7)f sfioiy — (Sbig sifit flravrjj, r 0g neavrri ^yvwv.*

* It appears that these stanzas are not found in the common editiouof the hymn. The substance of them is as follows: — If death overtake dm in sleep, why should the fear thereof disturb my mind? Guarded by the might of Thine arm, although be strike, he cannot hurt me. To die ii to

* On comparing the solid contents of this letter with yours, I think this is not less than ten or twelye times its size, so you need not he disappointed if a long silence should ensue. You ought to write in simple charity, “looking for nothing again.”

* I need not say, that, in the way of stii, I have done nothing since I came here. I haye often been idle on principle; yet I have got through something considerable of not very heavy reading* — more intended for the heart than the head.

Be assured I can never forget my ohligations to continue your affectionate brother, J. H.

* Mr James Hamilton.*

The next three letters are written very nearly at the same date, and refer necessarily to the same subjects — one to a minister in Scotland; another to a student of divinity in the Scottish Church; and the third a mark of tender affection to an aged parent.

‘Mapei&a, Uih June 1838.

‘My dear Munro, — I almost wonder at my own folly in commencing a correspondence with one with whom (although I trust our spirits were much congenial) I had never before maintained a communication by letter. But all my Glasgow correspondents have been so unaccountably silent about you, that, weak as I am, and far behind in writing to others, I cannot do justice to my own feelings of affectionate anxiety by any thing short of recta via sending you an epistle. It is meant, observe to extract an answer, telling me all. about your own state, physical and mental, your ministerial labours, troubles, and successes, and the general progress of “the kingdom” among you.

* And now I could tell you many queer things about this Madeira, — as how the peasant’s caps only cover

UTe-oppresting disease is a sweet sleep, if God stand near propitious. Whether, therefore, I sleep or die, I am every where safe; for I am every where near to Ood.

the crown of their heads, and would puzzle a poor mechanician like myself to discover how they sdck on; how the dogs and cats are generally to be seen sans tails and ears, by way of being made more beautiful, — in which case, I am sure, you will agree with me in thinking, the beauty is not in the object but in the mind; how there are no carts, but all the intanal transport is effected either on men’s heads, or by means of most primitive sledges drawn by oxen; how yon scarcely eVer see an equestrian, without an attendant accompanying him pari pfissuy being ingeniouslj towed — if we may use that expression of a land conveyance — -by his horse’s tail; how the nuns, in a certain convent here, had a ball on the dlst January; how the padres are so ignorant, that one of them borrowed a Portuguese Bible from an Englishman here, never having seen the like before; how it is confidently reported that the established iaith is at such a discoonti that, at the proper season, the priests are actually obliged to hire people to play the part of penitents; how the blacksmiths, mirabile dictu! work in whit jackets; and how the resident English, with true and characteristic patriotism, reckon their invalid countrymen just a part of the traffic of the port, and generally resolve to make the most of them. All this, and more, I could tell you; but a profusion of such details, however amusing, could ill answer the feelings with which I think of you, and might jar with the associations which have been formed in your mind with him who is afar off upon the sea.

* You will like better to know how I am. In many respects, well. Goodness and mercy have followed me ever since I bade farewell to Scotland. Oar passage was short and prosperous. The laige boarding-houses being all filled, our lot was providentially cast in one where there was no crowd of light-headed and light-hearted people, but only two inmates besides ourselves, with minds subdued by much affliction, and

SOCIETT — PROSPECTS. 195

with whom I could at any time conyerse of the things that are unseen and eternal, without the feeling that the theme was unwelcome. Although warned by a gentleman in Glasgow that I must make up mj mind to want a religious circle, there being little probability of my finding many here mth whom such sweet counsel could be held, — I haye been in this most mercifully disappointed. Two thoroughly evangelical clejqgymen of the Church of England, Messrs Ashe and Langford — the former a deep Christian, amazingly eleyated above human passion, and manifestly bearing the beauty of the Lord his God upon him — the latter warm in affections, and feryent in zeal, set up a meeting for prayer, in which, for a little, I was honoured to help them. There were four others, Arminian in theology, but amiable and serious in spirit, with whom it has always been a pleasure to associate; three or four lay friends, especially Mr H. Cadell of Edinburgh, were always ready to join in every sacred exercise; and there were many more among our acquaintances who were fayourably impressed, and of whom one might well indulge the hope that they were something more than “borderers “—” not far from the kingdom of God.*’ Farthermore, when we set up house, as, by way of economizing a little, we did a month ago, we found that a great many people, from whom we could not haye expected such kindness, were seized with an appetite for giving and lending; so that, in this way, we have come by many necessaries and conveniences, from a tea-pot to a horse, for which we must otherwise have drawn on the funds supplied us

from home

* My decline has been, and is, very slow; for my constitution is of iron. But, looking calmly at all my symptoms, they have been aggravated since I came here.... Meantime, the doctor advises me to prolong the experiment; and I do so, knowing that if God has any thing for me to do, he can bring me back

1 96 MEBCOm OF JAMES HALLEY.

from the gates of death to do it; and having sadi confidence in the honesty of Dr Rcsiton as to believe that, as soon as he sees the case to be hopeless, he will tell me so, and thus at once prerent me from expend* ing the resouices of others in a useless contest yriik death on foreign ground, and give me fair warning to return to Scotland, set my house in order, and lay down my head in quietness. There is yet a chance that the result may be otherwise; and my strength is to sit still, and awsdt the working of a higher hand.

‘Let my father know that you have heard from me, and that I remain just as when my sister last wrote to him. Farewell. Rejoice in your privilege of preaching. The Lord be with you! So prays youis most affectionately, J. H.

* Bee. Jamet Muwro

f Madeira, 13eA June 1838.

* My dear “Wilson, — .... Pray don’t think me oyer-presumptuous in criticising thus freely the productions of men (Lectures on the Evidences of Revealed Religion), at the feet of many of whom I would be happy to place myself* Attribute it rather to the interest I take in the subject, having written myself some years ago, 29 or 30 lectures on it for my class; and having thus been led, probably more than the greater number even of divinity students, to study the most direct and practical way of putting various portions of the argument. Possibly fiom a prejudice arising out of this, I felt also, in reading many of these lectures, that, admirable as they are in statement and reasoning, they are sometimes deficient in illustration.

* This matter over, I have to return again to the ever-trodden track, and tell you how I am. Happily, I do not need to enlarge much on it, as my symptoms have changed only in one material particular since I wrote Mr Oolquhoun by Mr Langford. That change is, that for fifteen mornings now I have expectorated no blood. This is, pro tantOy an improvement, and

I am truly thankful to record it, as well as to add, that, in general strength, I seem at present to be rather ming up. At the same time, these may only be the momentary fluctuations of a disease upon the whole incurable; they, as every circumstance in my lot, are a sufficient groimd for gratitude, but Yidll not bear the weight of hope. Indeed, with Renton’s announcement, that, at the best, I can never expect to preachy all the best and holiest of my earthly hopes have perished. I can only be dumb with silence, and lay my hjEind on my mouth, in submission to that hand which has been pleased to wither them; but oh! even when one acknowledges the righteousness of the judgment, it is difficult to keep down a certain bursting sensation at the heart, as if all were gone which the soul cared for. This can only be effectually overcome by going a step farther, and getting so far, through grace, into the secret of the Almighty, as to see that he is kind in his chastisements. Oftentimes I think that I can feel and own this; but, when I analyse my own emotions a little farther, I find that I am tracing and (it may be) praising God’s goodness, not in the affliction itself, but in some of those numberless mer* cies by which it has been surrounded and lightened. Thus, through the deceitfulness of sin, I nnd that many of my acknowledgments of mercy in this chastisement are spurious, or, if not quite so, at least leave me far short of that happy frame in which one can be said to “rejoice in tribulations.” Yet, while many hopes are gone, and glad submission is not yet attained, I can have a positive enjoyment in this one assurance, that ^’ with God nothing shall be impos-^ sible;” that, if he has work for me, he will raise me up to do it; and if he has none, like the thief on the cross, I suffer “justly;” and that, though the word of reconciliation may not be committed to me, I may yet have some name and place in his courts, as a door-keeper in the house of God. Meantime, I shall ever reckon it an honour and a blessing in proTidence that I was once on the way towards being a minister

of the Church of Scotland Very afiectionatelj

yours, J. H.

Mr John WiUon:

* Madeira, 15fi& Jmne 1838.

‘My dear Father, — ^Ybu will not be disappointed although I should write you very shortly; for I dare say you would be ready to excuse me although I did not write you at all. My general plan, you know, is — and must be — to give Janet the task of writing to all those whom she can with propriety address — such as yourself; and I only break through my rule jost now, because I really feel it a grievous thing that you should be so long without seeing my handwriting; and because, when I have a kind friend actually going to Glasgow, I caimot send him to any one so deeply anxious to have the best information about me as my own dear father.

* The bearer of this is A. C. Ross, Esq., one of the medical men here. Dr Renton, you know, has been my regular attendant in this way; and I begged Dr Ross to converse with him about my case, that he might give you a professional account of it — something more correct than I can hope to convey. He did so, and kindly offered to do more. He has just examined my cht very fully, and will be able to tell you all about the state in which he found me. I think for the last month I have been rather improving, at least it is a favourite symptom that I have now been sixteen mornings free from blood-spitting. Btit while this is matter of sincere thankfulness — and I hope you will feel it so — it will not justify us in entertaining any thing like fond or sanguine hopes. I must entreat you to beware of this as one of your besetting sins; you are apt to expect too much. Let us be thankful that I have been spared so long, and that God has put it into the hearts of our fnends

RESIOXATION to THE WILL OF GOD. 199

to desire and contribute for the continuance of this experiment; and let us not despair, for with God nothing is impossible. Only let us prepare ourselves, by meditating on our own frailty and on His sovereign right to do what he pleaseth, and on the grace of that Saviour on whose shoulder the government rests, for the worst that may occur; and endeavour, by praying always with all prayer and supplication, to cast our burden upon the Lord, and to attain to that happy frame of mind which David describes, when he says of the righteous man — “He shall not be afraid of evil tidings; his heart is fixed, trusting in the Lord.” My dear fether, I hope i/our heart will be fixed in the same way, that you may be better able to bear the announcement, that there seems now to be no chance of my ever recovering so far as to be able to preach, I know this will be a sore stroke to you; but remember from whose hand it comes, and consider with how much mercy it has pleased Him to mix it. What He may be pleased to do for me yet, we do not know; only let us wait with patience, and pray without ceasing, that whatever He does with our hope of usefulness or happiness here, He may at least, through Christy give every one of us one hope — and that a better — even the hope of an inheritance incorruptible

and undefiled With constant prayers for your

temporal and eternal good, — I am,«dear father, your very affectionate son, J. H.’

It was an era in the history of the invalid when his disease had advanced so far that it was pronounced physically impossible he should ever be a preacher. He had fondly clung to the hope of preaching so long as, on medical grounds, it could be considered possible. The withering of that hope pressed sore. Having, by the grace of God, been enabled himself to submit in patience, he strives, in the above letter, to make the sad announcement to his feiher in the softest form, and to fortify his mind by suggesting the consolations of the Gospel.

In the journal, of date 1 7th June 1838, occurs iJie record of a meditation on I Cor. yi. 11.

’ “And such were some of you: but ye are washed, but ye are sanctified, but ye are justified, in the name of the Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God.” — 1 Cor. vL U.

‘I take this to be one of the most comfortable verses in the whole Scriptures to a sin-burdened soul — one that feels its own yileness, and is almost apt to yield to the subtle taunt of Satan, — “There is no help for him in God.” It is like the case of the converted and restored Manasseh, or that blessed “whosoever” in John iii. 15.

’ * And tuck were some of you.” — 1 Ck)a. vi. 11.

These words — oh! that it were with an adequate degree of shame and confusion! — I can fully appropriate. My impurity of heart; my idolatry of the creature; my coyetousness of books if not of money; my excessive use of soidl..creature-comforts; and, above all, my unbridled censoriousness of tongue, prove that the apostle’s denunciation could be applied to me even at the present time, after all that I have seen of God s mercy, and felt of his judgments. Some appearances, of a very slightly more hopeful kind, having presented themselves in my health, — my sin, for a few days, has been an attempting to sit down, in my own schemings, with this world as my home, although God’s work in it was ever designed as my labour. An earthliness of spirit, even greater than usual, has seized me; and a desperate and almost frantic clinging to those whom I loye below, and this has issued in a sad haste and dulness in every exercise of secret worship. I haye trifled away in vain imaginations, till the lateness of the hour compelled me to nisb, as it were, into God’s presence, and to offer the Holy One a hurried and confused devotion. I have aiully come short in reverence to the majesty in the heavens. And it is a miracle of grace, that the fire of God’s jealousy has not, long ere now, burst forth against and consumed me. May I not ‘’ account that this long-suffering of our Lord is salvation; not merely designed and fitted to lead me to repentance, hut a pledge of greater blessings yet in store, if I will hut hear his voice, and not harden my heart? Nothing, I know, hut his own Spirit can effect this; but He will not deny himself to a beseeching sinner. 1 “will flee, then, from myself to him. May he take of the things of Christ — Christ’s righteousness, atonement, strength, and fulness — and reveal them with power to my soul! May he give me a cordial faith in the Redeemer, and cleanse me from all filthiness of the flesh and spirit; so that the remainder of this verse, so full of grace, may be applicable even to me: — “but ye £^<»- washed, but ye are sanctified, but ye are justified in the name of the Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God.” Amen and Amen.’ ....

* The” Lyra which brought us to Madeira seven months ago, arrived here to-day, with the mail....

* Went on board. Saw Captain Forrester, Mr Burdwood, and many of the crew. They have been mercifully dealt with; only one man lost since November. Mr B, the surgeon, met me in Funchal,

and dined with us. His visit was a melancholy one, as a tumour, forming on his brain, may cut him off, by apoplexy, any day. Gave him “Augustine’s Confessions,” which he promised to read for my sake. “What are meetings here, but partings?” Saw, on hoard the Lyra, a townsman, a son of Mr Farie of Farme, on his way to Rio. Thus two atoms, floating on the great sea of time, came into a moment’s contact, and then — parted company for ever..

Monday and yesterday I was only half my piescribed ^ime at my systematic Scripture reading and Portuguese; being prerented on Monday by going oat to dinner and tea, and yesterday seduced by newspapers. To-day I accomplished languidly my tale a£ Soipture reading, but spent only one hour on Portuguese; the temptation was “Random Beoollectioas.” Thus am I carried away by erery wind.

“Yet €k)d is not ceasing to plead with me. To-day he warned me by Exod. viii. 15, to take heed lest I hXL after the same example of unbelief as Pharaoh. ‘’ When he saw that there was respite, ho hardened his heart;” and I am too like him. A gleam of h<^, in reference to longer life, is an intoxicating draught with which I am not £t to be trusted. Alas! t my lightness and earthliness of mind should ahnost compel the €h)d of mercy to deny my request, that I may recoyer strength bdfore I go hence, and be no more! O £ox a fixed heart — £j:ed on the hopes and promises of His Gospel.

‘Thursday, did my ftill work. Friday, from various interruptions, was thrown out entirdy.

‘Received, with thanksgiying to the Father of mercies, admirable letters from Steyenson, Morrison, Mackail, and Denniston. I read, and wept, again and again. The Lord sanctify to me the possession of such friends; and, while every piece of intelligence from them only makes me long the more to join them in the work of our common Lord, may He give me entire submission and resignation to his holy will.

* Have kept up my Scripture reading tolerably (not quite) well these few days; but have only on Wednesday done my devoirs to Portuguese. It seems as if to resolve any thing were the surest way not to do it. Have read Hannah More’s Life, an important lesson and example of the duty of working while it is call to-day. Promptitude seens to bare been her grand moral feature,

Mr liowe on Romans xii. 1, 2.

* According to the day of the month, it is a year to-day, and by the day of the week a year yesterday, since I formally gave up my study, and left Edinburgh for Forgandenny. I had then a suspicion that my disease was likely to pass all skill of medicine, but still had much hope that my exile from study would not exceed two or three months. Since that time the Lord has taken me apart; has He at all spoken to my heart in the wilderness?

‘This solemn question, if answered m the affirma five, can only suggest a sad reflection on my deafness to the language of His providence. My goodness has been like the early dew; my repentances very constrained and imperfect; my faith weak and inoperative. I may regard it as of His special mercy that I have been spared during this year of trial; for, in the retrospect, I cannot set my eye on one season in which I could have yielded my spirit to Him who gave it, with any thing like a joyful hope of glory. In beginning this second year of my serious illness, I record it, as a witness against myself if I should be careless, that I do not expect to see the end of it in this world. Arise, then, my soul, and be doing! Get thee to the mountain!’

The following piece of scrupulous spiritual dissection, although in some parts similar to what has already appeared from the journal, we give entire. It is con-r tained in a letter to an old and much valued friend.

* Madeira, llth July 1838.

* My dear James, — Your very kind and welcome

letter of the 30th May I received on the 7th of the

psesent month, and read with much emotion. It baa

a peculiarity above the letters of my other oorrespon-«

204 MBMOIft or JAMBB HALLBT.

dents; most of liieiii are in Ihe oentie of intdUigenoe about me, and are sdiied up to mite either hj sedng mj friends or bearing from myself; yours has all the

merit and sweetness of a pure gratuity

Bat I proceed to more important matters. I am nek long ago of writing ahont bodily disease and its symptoms; let me try to give you a sketch of mj mental history and state. You know I have for many years had a strong and intellectual conviction of the truths of the Gospel, and possibly also such a view of their necessity and connection, as might hare operated upon any heart but one hardened through the deceitfulness of sin. This conviction I have always, through mercy, retained; nor have I been harassed with so much as one of those doubts, which many (even of men in whom a good work was proceeding) haye been exercised withal. This has arisen, probably, from early religious education, and the gift of a tolerably sober intellect; and therefore can be yiewed only as an aggrayation of responsibility. But I haye never been duly affected even with what I do most certainly know. I haye always had a cold and hard mind; and even the cross of Christ has had little power to warm and melt it. I haye been very unfaithfril in my use of opportunities, very careless about maintaLning impressions, and am conscious of having quietly surrendered myself to the sway of besetting sins, against which I had often yowed, and was in the daily habit of praying. After repeated self -examinations, I have never been able to satisfy* myself of my state; and this, too, with all the advantage of intensely feeling on which side it was most desirable to have a verdict. So long as I look dit faith alone, in the simple descriptions and illustrations given of it in Scripture, — as trusting on Christ, fleeing to him, committing a precious deposit to him, leaning on him, and so forth, — and try, by a simple act of introspection, to see whether these feelings are mine, I rise half persuaded that I have them;

MENTAL HISTORf AND STATE. 205

but when I reflect, that “by their fruits ye shall know them,” and seek in my life for the fruits of faith, I see all a blank; and if it should even seem that I am growing in any one thing, as I sotnetimes think is the case with regard to deadness to the world, I am soon brought to feel that this cannot be said to appear in a gennine Gospel form, but is, as much as may be, just a rational submission to what is ineyitable, — a giving up the world because it is giving up me. Thus tossed and distracted whenever I have begun to seek for evidences of a union to Christ, I have, for the most part, followed the judicious advice you gave me at parting, to deal most with the direct act of faith, — “looking unto Jesus.” But, alas! the dimness of my vision. The veil, I fear, is on my heart. And, although I am every day, almost every hour, pleading his blood for pardon, and the promise of the Spirit for strength, yet I cannot shut my eyes to the vast proportion of the spurious which enters into all these exercises. In particular, I am conscious that I seldom repair to the blood of Christ as a preventive against sin, as a mo<^ tire to holiness, but only run to it afier I have sinned for pardon and acceptance; (and is this being cleansed “from dead works f”) and there is often a felt want of sincerity in my petition for the light and sanctification of the Spirit. Yet with all this, whether it be a merciful upholding, or a presumptuous delusion, (God grant it to be the former 1) I have never once abandoned hope, or said to my soul that God had “cast oflF for ever.” Still, in this one encouraging symptom, there is this sad defect, that it never arises to Gospel peace; it is only a vague indistinct hopeful ness; and thus, ^’ when for the time I ought to have been a teacher,” I am still beating about the elementary truths of Christianity, and have sad forebodings that I may turn out to have ‘’ suffered so many things in vain,” — to be one of those who are “ever learning, but never coming to the knowledge of the truth.”

A I

S0(( MEMOm OF JAMRS HAIXST.

And jet I see how reoionabie and gioriotu a tradi it is, that those hare a right to rejoice in Qod who tnat in his holy name (Psalm zxxiii. 21); hut my tnutii either so small, or sach an utter nnUity, that I cannot grasp this truth, — ^I cannot approptiate it.

* Thus I go on from day to day, not fearing deodi (which I am indined to attribute to insensibility), bat as far as erer from orercoming it; and, whererer I start from, always broiht back to the old point,- — “God be propitiated to me a simier!”

Can you minister to a mind so diseased? If yoa can, pray write me. And oh! try to stir me up; for I find that indolence is still my besetting rin, yea, perhaps, more than erer; and all is weak, frail, and out of joint.

Yet (would you beliere it?) eren in this state d confessed declension and inertness, I am olten filled with a desire to picach. Indignant at the sad mixture of Popery and heartlessness with which the poor Church of England, in Madeira, is treated by one of these high-* church heretics; and yexed to find 1m tism substituted for the blood of Christ, I am often tempted to make Homer s vrisk my own, — ^/ yit f dtxa fifv yXofifVctty dexa ds (trofLar £7kv, Ain; d* axrog* And often do I long for the courts of the Lord in Scotland. On llhe first Sabbath of May, when we had more than the usual quantum of baptismal re’ generation I think I felt a real pleasure in reflecting with what power and faithfulness Jesus was being set forth crucified in the churches of Edinburgh, and how many of his dear children were there doing what he commanded, in remembrance of him; and had I known that the same day was your sacramental season, I could also have wept for joy at what was going on in Newton.

* And now, my dearest friend, farewell. The Lord

* Oh that I had ten tongues, and ten mouths, and a Toice that would not &il!

preserre tiij going out, iand thy coming in, from this time forth, and even for eyermore.-*-£yer your gratep fill and affectionate friend, J. H.

120V. JouMf StewtuonJ

* Sabbath, 22d July 1838.

‘From some increase of cough and pain, thought it imprudent to attempt going to church. Bead at home some of “Newton’s Cardiphonia,” with increased admiration of his Christian wisdom; and studied, I hope not unprofitahly, the d7th PssAn. Many verses in it are deeply impressive. Let me try to concentrate my thoughts on one.

* “Delight thyself also in the Lord; and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart.” — Psalm zzxvii 4.

This verse presents us with a specific against dis* appointment. How often does God, in his wisdom, shatter our hopes and wishes, and leave us hhghted and fallen, with but a faint sense that once we were able to feel so strongly, and aspire so high! How often, through ourperverseness, does it become necessary that He should answer our prayers, not in the palpable sense in which we offered them, but by terrible works in righteousness! We know not what to pray for; our wishes are frequently no fair representation of our wants; and hence, in mercy. He denies a thousand little busy desires, in order to adrance that, which, in our better moments, we would make our grand aim and object, the burden of our sighs, the matter of om: prayers, — to be made holy. But as the process goes on, our desires become more assimilated to His; our passing wishes flow in the direction of our habitual aim; and thus the answer to our prayers, although not more real than before, becomes more literal — more exactly accordant to the terms of the prayers themselves. Thus, it is easily seen how the promise of this verse is precisely fulfilled. The more we delight in the Lord, the more do the desires of our heart mould- themselres into an accordance with his will. Delighting in Him, we desire what pleases Him; and as the one feeling increases, so does the other. Hence it becomes consistent with God’s gloiy, which it was not before, to bring these longings of our souls to a literal fulfilment A hfiurmonj is established between what we wish, and what He wills. And thus, the closer we live to Him, and the more we are transformed into His image, the greater, on obvious principles, is the probability of our obtaining manifest and recognisable answers to prayer. Circumstances may occur to disturb this proportion between holiness and comfort; but, in general, it is a settled law of God’s spiritual administration, and one which should stir us up to follow hard aiier him, that he who delights in God shall obtain the desires of his heart.’

“We present, without any apology, the following letter. Although the topics are trifling, the thing, as a whole, illustrates a distinct feature of character. There is not only the fact of a very powerful memory, but the strong inclination to employ it in calling up past scenes with amusing minuteness of detail. We trust even the gravest of our readers will not dislike to see such a specimen of the manner in which the disabled student tried at times to relax himself, while awaiting the issue of a protracted experiment in a foreign land. The letter is written at several different dates.

‘Maoeiila, 28t& Jvly 1838.

* My dear Amot, — My memory, which, you know, was always an affair of localities and particulars, has of late been very busily engaged upon old Scotland. In particular, the incidents of this day twelve months have passed before me in a lively review. Permit me to remind you of them. Soon afiter my last breakfiebst at Forgandennj, jou set oiF to negotiate about the equipage which was to take us to Auchterarder. You stayed long; and several times I was despatched to look up the grass avenue to see if jou were coming. At last, about one o’clock, you announced the success of your diplomacy with Jamie Anderson. About two

-we started — not without a parting blessing from,

—a blessing which I have not forgotten, as far as prayers may go, to return to-day into his own bosom. TV^e had a cargo of books to leave at the village, and with these you ran, under a commencing shower, by a near cut, to the school-house. We saw Forteviot at some distance, where my father spent his boyhood, and those noble woods of Dupplin, at the mention of which his eye brightens even yet. At Dunning we left your chattels for Glasgow. Lord R., fat old gentleman in tights, at a gate. Little boy got into our cart on the sly — medal round his neck — interesting child. You pointed out to me the whereabouts of Madderty. Dismissed Jamie Anderson at Temaway. Remarked on a cottage or two which can seldom see the sun. Trudged along — you carrying my knapsack, Uke a brother born for adversity. Sat a few minutes on a little bridge about half a-mile from Temaway; but soon moved on for fear of cold; fine fresh Scottish air. Faint and wearily pulled up the ascent to Auch* terarder; and came to anchor at M.’s father s about half -past six o’clock. Astonished his hospitable mother by my voracious demolition of her soones, to the utter neglect of the white bread. Heard of James’ feats of study on a hay stack. Supped on a tumbler of excellent milk; and after sanctioning the arrangement with the dancing master for next morning, bathed my feet, swallowed my cough medicine, and lay down to perspire and sleep.

* My disease, in its true nature, was then beginning to develope itself to my own mind — perhaps also to yours. Looking at it calmly, I am now much worse than I was then. I eoold not now walk from Temar waj to Auchtenurder, nor (as I did next day) from Dollar to Tillicoultry, eren although I had the advaa tage of Scotch hracing air to walk in, instead of the son enerrating atmohere which encircles us here. Bat dark as the lesson is, I hare seen something more of myself since then; and surely also mndi of the goodness of the Lcnrd in the land of the living. Take the little hoy with the medal, whom we saw on oar journey; and suppose him, in the course of years, to fall into consumption by misarrangement of his time; where, in all likelihood, would he find fiiends so heneficent as to send him to Madeira?

* Monday, 13A Augtut 1838. As I seem to mys now to have pretty wdl reached the “garrtUa senectas” of my heing, yoa will foigire me for again indulging the reminiscences of the past. Some day you may amuse Steyenson widi this sketch of what he and I did thii day four years. We rose very early from our coUch in a little alehouse at Traquair-*-self-duhhed an inn — walked to the ‘’Bush aboon Traquair;*’ then crossed the Tweed to Innerleithen, by a nice new bridge, whidi, however, had the nuisance of a pontage, &c. I am out in my reckoning* — that was on the 12th of August. Well, we spent the night of the 12th at Selkiric; and on the morning of the Idth, after break&st, eallied forth on our second visit to Abbotsford, which the descending shades had prevented us from fully surveyii the evening before. I cannot tell you all the marvels we saw — from Archbishop Sharpe’s grate and John Knox’s pulpit, to Bob Boy’s diik and sporran; or how odd it was to see the gate of the Old Heart of Mid- Lothian built into the western wall, and into the eastern some monument of Selkirk’s grandeur, bearing the chivalrous legend,” vp with ye svtors op Selkirk ;** or how absurd we thought the inscription on agardendoor, ‘’ They heard the voice of theLordGod m&MXNlSCBSCBS OV THE PAST. 211

walking in the gardi in the cool of the day;” or how we laughed at Sir Walter’s supposed ignorance of LAtan quantity, in thus epitaphieing his dog Maida, —

MaidsB marmore dormis enb imagine, Maida; Ad jamtcm doinini sit tib terra levis; *’

^nrbich ignorance, Lockhart, to the disgrace of his Oxford training, has appropriated to himself, by confessing that he, and not Sir Walter, indited the lines. Stevenson -will also recollect that we made a large negotiation in gooseberries from the gardener s wi and how we lay down under a hedge between Abbotsford and Melrose, to despatch the same, and skulk a shower. Arrived at Meliose; after some refreshment we. made for the manse-^Stevenson having a letter irom Dr Mackinlay to the minister. There we dined with the old man and his lame son« — no other than e original of Dominie Sampson. (Both of these are since deady I hear.) Widi a true cognoscenti of a beadle we surveyed e abbey, and then took our leave; resumed our knapsacks, climbed the highest point of the Eildon hills (whence had one of the finest champaign views), visiteid Scott’s grave at Dryburgh Abbey, and lay to at a respectable public-house in St Boswell s Green - — the landlady whereof was not a little doubtful about receiving such suicious charac-^ ters at untimeous hours — for we had seen Drybuigh under the solemn twilight, and the sun was down long ere we reached St Boswell’s.

‘I would have gone farther, and told you how, the nert morning before breakfast, we sat on the ruins of the old castle of Roxburgh, at the confluence of the Tweed and Teviot; and how, in Kelso, we got for 15d. the best breakfast that traveller ever saw, — ^kipper, boiled salmon, cold roast lamb, eggs, — not to speak of the vulgar accompaniments of bread and butter, and the divine beverage of tea; — but every pore admonishes me that the thermometer is rather better than 80 in the shade; and I must say ‘* Vale’* for to-day, resolving that, when I resume mj pen, it shall discourse of grayer matters that concern the present or the future, leaidng these enjoyments of the past to he huried with the years that witnessed them.

‘Saturday, la September 1838.

‘Do you know, I have for some time past enjtertained thoughts of preparing something for publication. If this sickness is to be unto death, the only way I can repay my fathers anxieties and labours in my behalf, is by leaving something in a state for being published. Scarcely any thing that I have yet written would bear the light, except posthumously; nothing of mine, indeed, is inherently worth it; but adventi* tious circumstances might bear it through; and H. or you, or whoever writes the preface, might warn the critics — av^&^rey firi da rovg rsdyfixorag xaxZg/^ On the other hand, should it be the will of God to spare me, although with broken health and a sealed tongue, the most obyious instrument of usefulness to me la the pen, and I would need to be casting about how to employ it. Tell me what you think of this. Tell me if you think me mad or sober in indulging such imaginations

‘I have only room now to say, that my love to you is still the same, or, if possible, greater than ever. The Lord be with you. Your affectionate friend, J. H.

* Bev, William Amot:

It is nght to say, in explanation of the last panigraph, that Mr Halley had not the least conception of such a book as his friends are now publishing. His idea was, to prepare for publication some of his coll essays. He had actually begun to revise them; but the state of his health wholly unfitted him for long-continued exertion, and no progress was made.

We continue the journal.

* Mortal I deal not hanhly with the dead.

‘Tue9day,-Sltt Jvly 1838. i ‘The end of another month! “Lord, make me to know mine end, and the measure of my days, what it is; that I may know how frail I am.”

* Sent for to see, I fear on his death-bed, my landlord — a young man married only last November, and who, when I last saw him, about the beginning of June, seemed high in health and hopes. But God has brought him low, as it were, in a moment.

* The opening seems providential, for I went at his own request.

Lord, in thy hands are the issues of death. If thou hast a design of mercy towards this youth, thou canst give speedy effect to thy truth, or canst maintain him in life till it slowly works its way to his heart. Do with him as seemeth good to thy supreme wisdom; only deal not with him after his sins; but fully awaken, and then graciously heal him. And as thou hast been pleased, in thy providence, to set before me an open door, and call me to be his spiritual counsellor in this trying season, — oh give me a wisdom not mine own, to see the exact point of his soul s disease, to apply the true Gospel remedy, to deal with him solemnly yet tenderly, to direct him always to Jesus, and to select such views of himself and the Saviour as may be best fitted to adhere to his enfeebled memory, and sink into his heart. May the Spirit of grace, for the Redeemer s name’s ‘sake, lead me and guide me, animate my prayers for him and myself, suggest, control, and greatly bless my efforts to instruct and direct him. And do Thou, in mercy, apply to my own soul the impressive truths which his sick-bed may disclose or lead me to enforce; and may the fruit be seen, in my walking more with Thee, and more diligently preparing for my own removal. And now, “to Him that is able to keep,” &c. Amen.’

* Thursday, *Jih August 1838. ‘Prevented by various causes, especially by a blis-

214 If BMOIB OF JAMBS H AIXET.

ter which I had on, on Sabbath evening, &om writiBg till now.

Poor Mr died on Wednesday, 1st August, at

midnight, having seen me but twice, and expieed great anxiety for my third visit, which, however, was paid to his widow. He was much perplexed; biU seemed seriously asking, “What shall I do to be saved?” and I would indulge the h(^ that God answered him in mercy.

Saw his widow (not yet 18) on Thursday morning and Saturday evening; and tried to be faithful

On Sabbath, sat down at the Lord’s table, after a sennon from Matt. xxiL 35, 36, from Mr Lowe. Had less trembling than formerly; tried to look to Christ as a free and full Saviour. Prayed for my friends, and against my besetting sins, with the elements in my hands; and that I might be enabled to glorifj Qod, whether in life or death/

It does not appear that Mr Halley had any scruple in receiving the sacrament from the hands of Mr Lowe. Considering his strong opinions regarding the government of the English Church in general, and the doctrine of that particular minister, it is clear that his sentiments on the question of free communion were very liberal. It would be interesting to know precisely what were. -the grounds on which he acted in this matter, but there is no record of them in any of his letters or journals.

* Monday, 21th Auiut 1838.

‘Two more blisters, and intense heat, since my last entry, have prevented me from writing here.

‘Pains lessened; but cough much increased.

‘Heard last week of my dear friend, Henry Cadell, being at the gates of the grave, and yesterday of the deal£1 of Louis O^Brien on the 11th June. What lessons for me! Let me believe that it is not without some peculiar design of saTing mercy that I am spared; and let me improre the moments for eternity. 1 haye many difficulties and temptations: oh for a wisdom from abore to guide me safely and righteously through!

* Wednadayy 29«& Au 1838. * Made the other day, in bed, the following translation of a few lines of Marick’s d9th Psalm. ^’ God of my Withers,” &c.: —

ri hfita Xotov Kfr/y, etg ort ysTw,

^Xijy (fou; rig tkirig firi V/ trov y rirfifAtvfi**

Two short passages, in a letter to his £apther, contain sentiments that should be read and pondered.

* Madxiba 4th September 1838.

* M. tells me about Patrick’s Latin. I

am much gratified by what he says; and I hope Patrick will be encouraged to do still better. I would not have you “seek great things” for him; but try and get him into a steady way of working, on right principles of Christian obedience to his parents. I now see unnumbered sins, even in those labours for Trhich people used most to praise me. To work hard at school and college was of%en just my way of pleasing myself. Make it your prayer that Patrick may hare grace given him to do all in a better spirit. He will now be back from Gigha, I hope much rei&eshed and improved; and I trust I shall hear that he is very diligent and very tractable, and fonder of his Sabbath school and Bible than every thing besides. He will find the indispensable use of these, if God should be pleased to do with his earthly hopes as he has dealt,

216 MBMOm OF JAMBS H ALLEY.

in his wifldom, mth those which his hroiher once cherished* ....

I cannot flatter you by saying that I improve. All that Renton can say is, that I have not lost much ground. It is a ^eiYOurable thing that nine bhsteis, since 20th June, hare not reduced my flesh. And my blood-spitting has only been occasional, not constant, for three months now. But cough is worse, I think, than ever. The difficulty of breathing rather increases; and pains are more numerous and quite immoyable. However, the heat has not fevered mj pulse. On the whole, I am not much worse, and fed daily ground for thankfulness, although I can see no solid reason for cherishing hope.

‘I rejoice to find that you are trying to say, “Good is the will of the Lord,” whatever he may do with me. But I fear you think too favourably of the state of my mind. In myself, and for aught that I can do or have done, it is all sin and sorrow. Those things which have found me favour with men, I see to be but filthy rags, when brought near to the law of God. I see that if I am to be saved at all, it must be by the one way — God’s firee grace through Jesus Christ our Lord. I am not destitute of hope toward God, and I seek to build it on the work of this Saviour. But it is faint and low; and I greatly need the quickening energy of the Holy Ghost. Ask this for me in your prayers; and ask also the Spirit of adoption, whereby, in the midst of trouble, I may cry,” Abba, Father.** ....

‘Your ever affectionate son, J. H.’

* Monday, l*Jth September 1838,

* Have rfesiuned my pen, although both the weather and my own indolence are adverse to its use, in order briefly to mention, that I may improve them to my soul’s good, the events of this day twelve months.

* On Sabbath, 17th September 1837, 1 was at Rothsay. Heard Mr Craig on Matt. xii. 33-42, and Mr Begg of Liberton on 1 Cor. x. 1, 4. Spent the aftertioon in reading Dr Love s sermons; and closed the d%y by conducting the family devotions of a decent Highland family with whom I lodged.

‘Next morning saw Denniston and Burns, for whose friendship and example I must give account. Walked to the Point-house, and was most kindly treated by Sir D. K. Sandford. In my then perplexity about my destination, he advised me, with Inuch judgment and sympathy, to come here. With. Professor Ramsay, he took me to see the site of the house he was to build. But God has already dissolved his own tabernacle of clay; and this his thought has perished. Wondrous mercy! that I live to record it.

* Wednesday y 2eih September 1838.

‘Received, with much emotion, a note from my

excellent friend, accompanied by” Richard

Alleine’s Life and Letters,” and “Taylor’s Life of Cowper.” Much humbled by an expression in the note — “God bless you with his best and choicest blessings.” So my friends are, no doubt, hoping that the furnace is purifying me; while here am I, sinning, repenting, and complaining, and showing, in unmortiiied corruptions, that the dross is by far predominant, or rather, probably, that the metal is altogether base. Oh, it is sad thus to be falling short of the kind and charitable thoughts of God’s children, dishonouring God himself, and (if one may so speak) rendering it impossible for him, in wisdom and faithfulness, to withdraw his heavy hand. An unholy and unhumbled heaghdemands more of the rod. Oh for the whisperings of Ihe good Spirit to make me “heat it, and Him who hath appointed it!”

‘This day two years I took one of the most decided steps of my short pilgrimage in leaving Glasgow, the scene of much enjoyment, success, and kind encouragement, for Edinburgh, an untried field of exertion. To this step, under Divine Providence, I may in great part attribute my present illness; for it was a transo t8 MEMOm OF JAMBS HALLBT.

portation to a still more unkindly dimate, — it remoTed the restraints (slender enough at best) which existed at home on night study, and it placed me, when illness came, in a situation, in which, from ayersion to giving trouble,^ was content to want many needful, or, at least, desirable things. But in spite of these effects, I do not so much condemn this as nine-tenths of the actions of my life. So far as memory can replace me in the circumstances, it seems to me that there was less mixture of sinful motives in it than an accurate inspection could generally detect in others. Surely mj main — my overpowering desire was to use the means of securing a greater measure of fitness for the Gospel ministry, than I could hope to gain amid the bustle of my Glasgow occupations. In this I was disappointed, partly from ill health, chiefly from my own misuse of opportunities; but I can recall few desires which existed in me in greater simplicity. Yet how tainted must all have been, when even this was made, by Infinite Wisdom, the means of chastisement.

‘Sabbath, S(Hh September 1838.

Heard an admirable discourse to-day, fr5m the Rev. Hardwicke Shute, on the necessity, evidence, and acquisition, of the love of God, fixpm I John iv. 19.

‘On the Sabbath of last year corresponding to to-day, being the 1st day of October, I ought, according to a promise made six months before — had I been licensed — to have commenced my public labours in Stevenson’s pulpit. But God scattered this imagination. And it has probably been in mercy that I was kept from touching the ark; for I get day by day such disclosures of my own unholiness, as make it clear that I should have been most unfit for the solemn duties of the ministry.

* Instead of being at Newton, I spent that Sabbath at Killermont, reading the Bible and the “Life of the Rev. Cornelius Neale,” which, like every other Christian biography, was one continued reproach of mj duLness and leanness.

Endeavoured to recount my mercies and sins, with a view to self-humiliation.

‘Thursday, 4th October 1838.

* This day twelve months I saw dear A.

licensed; and got a word in season about my trouble from the Bey. Jonathan Anderson in the Presbytery house. In the evening, Dr Thomson, an old West Indian physician, was the first who distinctly pronounced me to be in consumption.

* I have thus now, for a whole year, known myself to be fatally diseased. How little has this knowledge impressed me! Lord, pardon my lightness, and teach me to live for eternity! Amen.

* On 1 6th October came to Socorro. On 27th do., burst a blood-vessel in my right lung. Much weakened. For three days no food. Confined to bed wholly for a week; to the house till now. Record it ihmkfully, that at the moment of the attack, I felt no fear, and was enabled to commit my soul to Christ. May grace be given me to do so daily!

‘This day twelve months left Falmouth, and have never been so long confined as fifteen days till now.

* Hitherto the Lord hath helped us!’

The bursting of the blood-vessel noted above, was to his frieMs an alarming symptom of the progress of his disorder. This short note is very precious as a record of the hope that sustained him in his time of greatest need. At the moment of the attack he felt no lear’ This of itself is abundant evidence against many of his own more despondent reasonings. Knowing, as he did, the state of his disease, and feeling, for the first time, a sudden and copious flow of blood from the lungs, he must have had a strong apprehen-

220 HBMOnt OF JAMES HALLST.

sion of immediate diBsolution. In these circomstmces he was enabled to commit his soul to Christ, and await the result without fear. This alone is enough to satisfy te reader that his hope was more steady and strong than the language of his complaints appears to indicate. His practice of aiming at the iery highest attainments, which with him was an intellectual habit, gave a tinge to his expressions when speaking of his own hope. Those who did not personally know him should take this into account. His intimate fiiends know that he really possessed much more of the peace and joy in believing than a stranger would infer from the perusal of his letters.

He was much weakened by this attack for a time, but it does not seem to have much interfered with the activity of his mind. During the remaining two months of 1838, very little appears either in the journal or in the form of letters to his friends; but at tbjit time he was not idle; what strength he still retained was employed in another way.

The two following letters give an account of the state of his disease at this period, and throw much light on a subject that lay near his heart — the religious state of the English inhabitants, and the means of bringing a preached Gospel within their reach.

Madeira, y December 1838. ‘My dear James, — .... Thanks for iyour notes on Oxford; you are not naif so wild as I am against Newman and Co. If the English Church does not expel these fellows, I think the Church of Scotland will be utterly untrue to her Head if she s>Tnboli2es with it longer. I have read Newman “on Homanism and Popular Protestantism” twice; thoroughly analyzed him; and see the total want of bottom which characterises the scheme. Bat what is worse, I see its prttctiques here. Here, in a community of dying ifien haye we whole sermons on baptismal grace, saclamental efficacy, and the like; against prayer-meetings, as irregular; against laymen praying with the sick; and, horrendissimum! against the unrestricted reading of the Scriptures without a priest to interpret, — as if the besetting sin of the people here were’ an oyerstrained use of their Bibles. All this makes me quite overboil. And, by way of crowning the whole, last Sabbath (Langford having now come, and he and I having had some communings about reviving our prayer-meeting of last year) it was announced, as an extinguisher to all irregularities, that prayers would he READ in the chapel on Wednesday and Friday af):emoons. Of course, the exhibition of such a spirit puzzles us as to our duty, — it becoming a question, whether we may not do as much harm by raising such evil feeling, as good by the possible effect of our addresses. Only it is a heavy thought, that if we abstain, there will be no preaching of the Gospel here at all; and even the Word read in the lessons can hardly be expected to profit, when the people are sedulously taught|not to attempt understanding and applying it for themselves. So much for highehurchism, which, from my soul, I abhor. This is the place for converting a man to our fathers’ views of Black Prelacy. “By their fruits ye shall know them.”

Hcare endeth my philippic

* And now, as to your other suggestions in the way of subjects for my weak and errant pen, I can only say, I hope they have deeply humbled me. To a mind that has any remnant of ingenuousness at sdl, nothing can be more distressingly humiliating than to find oneself so overrated. Indeed, my dear friend, I am utterly unequal to the task of writing profitably on any of the subjects you name. What am I that I should presume to write on Christian experience*-to t22 MBMOm OF JAMEB HALLBT.

lay my own theoriziiig on truths scarce felt ot all, as a model before the Church of God? Read a part of the preface to “Abbot’s Way to do Good,” and you wffl find remarks on inability to enter into the inner courts of Christianity, which apply with far greater emphasis to me. ‘’ Stated times for devotion” is the only smfaject named which I could at all illustrate, and here erery paffe would be a reproof and libel on myself. But, weakened as I now am, it seems almost Utopian to speak of putting my hand to any new effort. If I do, you shall duly hear, though not probably for nearly three months, as the Dart and Yemon happen to be here together, which spoils the alternation of our conveyances. Meantime I read a good deal in a quiet way, and much need your prayers that I may be found watching. ....

I daje not speak a word about my chanee (as ignorant beings must call it) of seeing out this winter. It is wholly in God’s hands; and were the decision in my own, I trust I can say unaffectedly, that I should not wish it out of them again. It would be pleasant to see you all again; but then it would bind more strongly so many ties to earth and its inhabitants. But He will choose out the lot of our inheritance. O pray that I may be strong in faith, and unreserred in submission. — And believe me, while here, your grateful and affectionate J. H.’

Madeiba, 1st Januany 18S9.

My very dear Friend, — I wish you very much hap-

?ine8S in the year which has now opened on us.... wish you also, from all my heart, what none of us dare think of in reference to me — many joyful and profitable returns of so solemnly impressive a season.

* Do not expect either a long or a good letter from me just now. Somehow I am sadly out of the mood in which I would wish to- write any body, above all to write on; but, as my heart faileth with ray flesh.

I know not when I may be in a better, so, having the opportunity of writing some one of my friends just now, and finding you to be the one that has the greatest present claim, I have resolved to give myself the pleasure, probably for the last tim, of wishing you a good new year,

* Your most welcome letter, by Dr K., of the 17th September, reached me on the 14th October. I was both rejoiced and ashamed to find that you had taken the trouble of writing me at such length, in the midst of the many labours that must press upon you. Dr K. I have found a warm and truly Christian friend. He proposed to have a small prayer-meeting for private edification, which commenced three weeks ago. The members are, Langford, Dr K., Mr B., and mygelf. I hope to profit by it. K. is very zealous; anxious to do good, but rather tied up, as you may by and by have explained, if my paper serves; but he does what he can, and would willmgly labour still more abundantly.

* Of my health you will have heard frequently since you heard directly from myself. I went on, much as when I wrote you, till the 27th October, when, in stooping, without any apparent cause, I burst a blood-vessel in the right lung. Lost two breakfast cupiiills of blood. Was confined fifteen days (the longest time, I am thankful to say, I have been in the house since

I came to Madeira), and a good deal weakened

For a month past, however, this has been quite a tolerable evil, so I have bought an apology for a pony, and ride a little. Still, I do not stand where I was. My breathing is rather shorter; my sleep, always indifferent, has become very bad, and opiates only add to my restlessness; and my cough has increased very sensibly in frequency and depth. So 1 fear you and my other ardently attached friends, who were perhaps too willing to entertain favourable expectations, must really try to divorce yourselves from the hope of any considerable

224 MBMOm OF JAMBS HALLKT.

piolohffation of my life. Renton, indeed, who eramined my chest a fortnight ago, says the disease is little more extensiye than it was whoi I came, and that I am at present in that peculiar state, in whidi, with care and a good climate, I might hang on for a good while; hut confesses that a severe cold might induce an amount of inflammation which no medicine could check. So that I ought to cherish the constaat feeling that my life is hoYering between two worlds. Yet you easily see that the possibility of living to see another summer brings with it other possibilities which draw away the mind from this steady view, such as that of returning home; and then I perplex myself with the difficulties which will arise about my future disposal, through which God alone can cut a way; and almost tremble as I think of the excitement of shaking hands with those from whom I thought I had parted for ever; and weep with joy and humiliation when I muse upon seeing so many of my dear brethren in college labour declaring, each in his own pulpit, the glorious Gospel of the blessed God. These are all disturbing forces; but yet, notwithstanding these, and in spite of whatever to the contrary may appear to lurk in what remains of my letter when I come to speak of my plans (for plans you know I will be contriving so long as I live), I trust I can say, without mu(£ self-deception, that the steady tendency of my mind is towards the remembrance of how short my time is. This would naturally lead me to say something of my spiritual health; but here I must be silent. I have no right to trouble you with more complainings; and I have not yet learned the “new song.” Your remarks here were most welcome, and your solicitude peculiarly pleasing to me. I trust yet your excellent advices and cautions may bring forth some fruit; at all events, they have been repeatedly perused and prayed over, and they shall ever be highly valued. I cannot say that I have made any sensible progress.

ualess it be in the knowledge of sin. I sometimes imagine I see more than formerly of my own depravity. But I have latterly thought that one of the chief manifestations of sin within me has been a seeking for comfort rather than a steady performance of duty even in the dark. I trust, by Divine grace, to address myself to the mending of this evil; to do somewhat of what my hand findeth, confessing all the while that any portion of peace or consolation is what I have no right to expect.

* And here the harvest truly is plenteous. Fourteen invalid strangers have already passed into eternity since the beginning of October; many more remain in a very precarious state, and among the residents there is scarcely a glimmering of religion. I have four invalid friends, whom I try to visit (as a professing Christian) once a-week, and one resident lady, who was, I hope, converted to God last year, with whom, on Monday mornings, I go through Ephesians. Langford labours among (I presume) a greater number; and B. has access to one or two sick-beds. L. visits a few, and offers them the sacrament most industriously; but he cannot preach to them^Ae Gospel for he is plainly ignorant of it himself. His chief subjects in the pulpit of late have been — against prayer-meetings as irregular; against the laity attempting to pray by the sick; against the Scotch meeting (of which more directly), £md strong laudations of the Church and the Prayer-book.

* But I have not of late heard any of these lucubrations. For a good many Sabbaths after my attack I could not sit out a service; and for four Sabbaths past we have had a meeting for public worship in the Scotch foi’m, Mr Barrie being the preacher. We met the first day in a merchant’s house, and since that we have hired a large room in a boarding-house. Between 30 and 40 is the regular attendance, often more.

ttS ‘WSmOtB OP JAMES HALLB7.

* Baxrie and Kallej, who are both well, were aimGiH to hare been engaged in a prayer-meeting of a public kind. But they could not hae expected to get any hearers but a portion of those Scotch who hear the Gospel on Sabbath. Now, the persons we were most anxious to reach were the Anglicans, who hear no

Crospel on Sabbath So good Langford, although

his health is worse, finding himself to stand between the Anglicans and want, agreed to join me in a meeting, lamenting that the prejudices of the people, which he could estimate much better than we, compelled him, unwilUnglif to forego the aid of B., a Dissenter, — and K., a layman. Thus the thing lies on two broken reeds, — Lowe threatening, with regard to Lang ford, to apply to the Bishop of London for an interdict Nathless, we mean, by God’s help, to commence to-morrow. And I hope we shall have strength given us to go through with it, and grace to be found faithful.

* Literary labour has been out of the question. The tale of books read since July 17 is considerable — ^r/y Tolumes; but many of them very small, and none heavy. Probably the most important has been “Newman on Romanism and Popular Protestantism,” V^hich I read twice, and wrote notes upon; a very subtie attempt to demolish the general principle of Protestantism, beginning with the all-sufficiency of Scripture, and the right of private judgment, and to rear the via media on its ruins. — With unabated regard, yours,

‘J. H.

* Rev. W. Arma:

Of seven Episcopal clergymen whose health admitted of exertion, only one would countenance and support the prayer-meeting. The opposition of the ministers of course considerably affected the attendance of the people. Thus checked in his effi)rts to reach the ears of those who most needed instruction.

EEBAT ON PRAYER-MEETINaS. 227

Mr Halley was natiirallj led to examine the groundfl on which the opposition rested. The result was, a little essay, entitled ‘Vindication of Prayer-Meetings,’ intended to be read at the first meeting in the beginning of January. As this paper, independently of its own intrinsic value, tends directly to throw light on the condition and character of the English population at Madeira, we shall give it a place in this volume.* It deserres to be recorded, both for its own sake as an argument on a most interesting subject, and for the sake of the light which it throws on the picture of Madeira life. We can learn much of the character of the persons addressed from the kind of arguments which an accurate obseryer felt it necessary to employ; and the grave use of arguments to prove what he himself must have considered self-evident, is an honourable testimony to the candour of the writer.

Still farther to show, what we in Scotland happilj do not well understand, how strong a prejudice the Anglicans entertain against such meetings, it may be stated that this paper was never read. Gentle and charitable though it be, it was not deemed prudent to read it at the meeting, lest it should provoke a more active opposition. Of these labours we shall hear more in subsequent letters; and meantime, we extract from the diary a brief notice of what Mr Halley always accounted a most important event in his life.

* Sabbath, 6th January 1839.

* We have now, for some time, had the privilege of attending divine worship in our own Scotch form, under the ministry of Mr Barrie, a licentiate of the United Secession Church. ....

Appendix, D.

* Monday 14tik Jcmuary 1839.

‘having obtained help of God, I was enabled to preach yesterday from Rev. xxii. 5, first clause, in the Scotch meeting. Was much encouraged by the attention of the people; and feel unlimited cause for gratitude in no immediate mischief having resulted to myself. And now,

‘Father of mercies, I would humbly but earnestly entreat thee to give me some token for good in reference to this and my other labours. Glorify thy Son by these poor ministrations; and lift on me, if it please thee, for his sake and for thy glory’s sake, some such light of thy countenance as may encourage and uphold me in bearing testimony for Him. Show me how much I can and ought to do; and ever lead and guide me. Amen.’

There is a more particular account of his feelings on that occasion in a subsequent letter, of date 26th April. As might be expected from one who so much magnified the office, he experienced the most intense delight in being allowed for once to preach publicly the unsearchable riches of Christ, The Spirit poured out on him, in some degree reached his audience. We have been told by a gentleman who risited the island soon after, that a great impression was produced, and a liyely remembrance of it cherished long among the people. It is worthy of remark that Mr Halley did not consider himself warranted, on ordinary occasions, to assume the functions of a preacher of the Gospel. Even had his health admitted of it, he would not have felt himself at liberty to preach publicly without authority from the Church. But on this occasion he yielded to what he considered his duty, on a sudden and unforeseen emergency. Mr Barrie, who usually conducted the worship, was prevented from being present on that day, and Mr Hallej determined to preach, as the only means of preserving the congregation who assembled from the other alternative — a silent Sabbath.

The substance of this discourse has been preserved. The text was Rev. xxii. 5 — * There shall be no night there.’ It is conceived in a strain of great tenderness, and eminently suited to the circumstances in which it was delivered. Elsewhere the reader will find a sermon more elaborately composed, at a time of greater vigour: from this we give only one brief quotation, as a specimen of its style. It is the last of six short heads intended to illustrate the doctrine of the text, and is followed by a lengthened application to the peculiar circumstances of the audience.

6. Finally, that night is the image of death. So Job speaks of the grave as a “land of darkness, as darkness itself; and of the shadow of death, without any order, and where the light is as darkness.” And as sleep has among all nations been called the brother of death, and night is the time of his dominion, it has become associated likewise with the thought of dissolution, so that he who speaks of the night of the grave, gives utterance to a langhage which is universally intelligible, as expressing the common feeling of humanity. And here, certainly, if any where, we dwell in the midst of this night, — in a land where death casts his longest and deepest shadow; and wherever we move on earth, we find this darkness always before us, this night constantly impending. But there is no night there — no night of death; and this it is which adds indefinitely to every joy of the Lord’s redeemed, that they have come to a kingdom where all is immortal. Their cup of bliss will never have its sweetness impaired by the infusion of a single drop of aoffht that is perishable; their inheritance is inooimptible and undefiled, and fadeth not away; their felidtjr shall be coeval with their being, and their being with etemitj. Could the suspicion find a place, that even after long ages this glory would terminate, the anxious expectation of the end might mar the happiness of heaven; bat the blessed assurance is vouchsafed that these pleasures are for evermore, — that death, all-subdoing though he is to us below, shall be to the saints in light a prostrate enemy, one over whom they have achieved, through the might of Emmanuel, a final and irreversible triumph. And, oh! what must be their ecstasy, when they think that that spectre foe, from whose onset, while on earth, in spite of the promises of grace, nature would often shrink with an indescribable apprehension, shall never, never vex them more; when they know that that event to which, for a lifetime, they looked forward with solemnity, is buried in the past, and never can befall them again; when they feel that they are grasping the palm of glory with a hand that shall never more grow chill, and raisii the new song in a voice that shall never more grow tremulous, and beholding the Divine glory with eyes on which no shadow of death shall ever again descend, and mingling with an assemblage for not one indiridual of which the grave shall ever again open. This will be the joy of their joy, the crowning element of their transport; and this, observe, will be the feeling of every individual citizen of the New Jerusalem. But suppose it to be diffused throughout a multitude such as no man can number, and augmented by that thrill of sympathy which the spirits of the just made perfect must feel in each other’s gladness, every bosom swelling with the consciousness that the glory of all is imperishable, and you will gain a new and loftier conception of what is intended when it is said, “There shall be no night there,”’

With reference to the same question- — in what cir-PEBPLEXITT BBGABDINQ J>VTT, 281

comstances one is jastified in preaching publicly, with- 6ut express and formal authority from the Church — there is a very interesting note in the journal of a later date. To a mind coustituted as his was, it was painful to be placed in the altematiTe of hearing the Gospel unfaithfully preached, or hearing it preached by one not set apart to the office of the ministry. In the choice there was no difficulty. His desires were all on the one side; but the want of all things in order’ seems to hare affi)rded him considerable uneasiness.

‘Sabbath, 2lgt Fdyruary 1839.

‘To-day, Mr Barrie having suddenly left us, Dr Kalley conducted divine worship in a style of ferrent piety and lofty spirituality. He spoke in the forenoon from Exodus xv. 11. I have been in much perplexity as to whether it is his line of duty to attempt the maintaining of these meetings. His own mind seems quite unembarrassed. The Lord confirm him, if he is right, and lead him to review his resolution, if he is wrong. And oh that He may give me light also, that I may be able either to attend him with a clear conscience, and in believing expectation of a blessing on the service; or, with a clear conscience, to adopt some other course. ‘^ Lord, send out thy light and truth.” ’

As the spring advanced, the question was raised again, whether he should spend the summer in Madeira or return home. A very minute statement of the case is given in a letter to J. C. Colquhoun, Esq., M.P^ from which we shall present an extract.

Madeiba, 2(2 ApiU 1839.

‘My dear Sir, — If any thing could make you weary in well-doing, I think it would be having to do, in your present method and walk of benevolence, with

232 MEMOIR OF JABfES HALLET.

such a one as myself. My hope is, however, that by a good-natured blindness, you overlook these inocoisistencies, which not unfrequently startle even myselfr At any rate, I feel that at one time I am apt to be so brief as, to a less indulgent judge, would almost seem disrespectful; while at another — especially if any of my own poor concerns require explanation — I am apt to write at such length as to be absolutely tiresome. Let your charity accept this excuse or palliation, that bodily weakness, acting on a corrupt nature, has a sad tendency to absorb every thought in itself, and that invahds, by a kind of prescriptive right, are allowed

to be unreasonable

‘At the close of that letter, I said I thought it would be my duty to return home in June, and let our medical advisers there pronounce upon my state. This was, of course, on the hypothesis that no peculiar danger was to be apprehended from such a step. Accordingly, to my friends here, of whom God has graciously given me not a few, I always spoke of my return as a settled thing. Some of them hinted an opinion that I had better stay, but none so strongly as to affect my purpose. About six weeks ago, however, Dr Robert Kalley (my most endeared friend, certainly, among this year s strangers — a medical man, who had offered himself as a missionary for China, but his wife’s health having brought him here, is now likely to labour among the Portuguese in Madeira), having heard one of us mention this, said very decidedly, that, from what he had observed of my state, he would consider such a step far from wise; and concluded by offering one or both of us a place in bis house (by way of farther reducing our expenditure), if it should be thought fit that I should remain. Some time afer, I got him to examine my chest; and the result, he said, was to confirm him in his view. Still, having spoken in such terms both to you and to my father, I did not feel at liberty even then to considSer

THE QUESTION OF STAYING OR BETtTRNING. 233

my return as an open question; but waited anxiously for last packet and Vernon (which arrivfed respectively on the 2 1st and 22d of March), to discover the mind of my friends in Britain. However, my Glasgow letters contained no allusion to the subject; and in confiequence of my own inadvertency in not telling you when the Yemon was to sail, I had none from you. So I felt all I could do was to get Dr Renton to stethoficopize me anew, and then lay before my friends the medical and other elements, so far as I know them, of judgment on the question.... He now detects one, perhaps two cavities in my right lung; and the plain inference is, that the disease has reached that stage at which it is generally pronounced incurable. Upon being interrogated as to the propriety of returning, he said that no one could calculate on the influence of our native climate, even in summer, on a chest in such a condition; and although evidently unwilling to discourage me from returning, if my friends should desire it, he intimated his opinion, that it would so greatly accelerate the complaint, that if I lived to see the autumn, no question would ever be raised about another removal. In short, while he holds out no other hope than that the disease will run its course, he thinks tluit course will be more slowly accomplished here.

‘Possibly, my dear Sir, it may seem strange that such a judgment as this did not add strength to my former resolution; and that, as all the labour and useftdness for which I once wished to live is now for ever hid from my eyes, no question need now be raised about the duty of my going home, seeing my father and dear friends in the fle, and then resigning my spirit to Him who gave it. But you will not greatly marvel at my mind being otherwise affected, when you ponder how solemn a thing it is for a poor sinftil worm to have the near prospect of appearing as an unclothed spirit before the King of kings. Much of the overwhelming sensation which this thought pro-

234 llEHOIR OF JAHES UAtLBT*

duces 18 doubtless the fruit of unbelief, and therefore sinful; but it is still here: and while I fedi that the Teiy brief space to which care in this climate might yet extend my days, is quite as nothing, with my impaired capacities, in regard to any of my cherished plans of outward usefulness, it is no light thing as regards the onward prospect into eternity.

Such, then, I must own, in weakness of the flesh, is the leading reason which called into doubt my fen*- mer resolution of returning. Farther consideration has brought to light a few others, which I shall notice as briefly as I may. 1. Probably, besides the mere matter of a slightly lengthened span, my private religious advantages will be greater here On the

other hand, at home, although I have many truly Christian friends, I apprehend I should radier be living in a crowd; and many of those who are best able to instruct me in spiritual matters, would (I am afraid) as of old, renew the unhappy deference they used to pay to my opinion in matters theological, and the temptation might be too strong for me to tsdk of books, and systems, and theories, instead of the one thing needful for a dying man. 2. Although I can now do much less good than formerly (for the swelling in my leg, which I probably mentioned in my last, though kept down by no fewer than six bleedings, has now for two months entirely prevented me from riding, so that my visits are much reduced, and I am only carried to the weekly prayer-meeting; indeed, I have just ordered a pair of crutches, to move about my room); yet I have both the call and the possibility to 4o a little — the call for the invalids here are more than one man can overtake, and the minister (though he tried, which he does not, to overtake them), is so far astray himself that he can teach them little good; and the possibility, for one or two come to me, and in this climate I can safely get carried out to one other. Besides, speaking on human probabilities, there is a chance that, lemaimng here, I may suhriat till next winter in a state which will admit of my being present, and saying a few words quietly (we only sit and talk) at any prayer -meeting which may then be instituted. At home, still going on the same aargument of probability, I should haye neither the ccdl nor the power y’ — ^Ti.oi the call, for there I have in any clerical friends on whom I could devolve such labour; nor the power, for probably I durst not go over my father’s threshold. It deserves to be added also, in the estimate of the ways in which I could serve God while on earth, that there seems a bare possibility of my getting here a class of Portuguese padres, to teach them Greek (which not one of them knows) — a kind of usefulness, if attainable, which would a little ease my conscience in continuing to absorb funds, which, if not given to me, would no doubt find their way into the Redeemer’s treasury... — Most affectionately yours, J. H.

The letter goes on to enumerate, with a similar minuteness, the reasons for returning, and concludes by asking to be directed by his benefactors as to the course he should take. The following short extract from a very long letter has reference to the same subject. It is addressed to his stepmother. His mother, whose memory he always affectionately cheridied, died when he was about ten years of age.

‘Madeira, 4ih April 1839. ‘My dear Mother,- — I have often thought of it as one disadvantage of my situation here, that I am tempted not to correspond directly with those who ought to be dearest to me on earth. When there are so many others who have claims on me in the way of letter- writing, it is very natural to hand over our own family to Janet, who can write with propriety to yon, while there are many to whom she cannot do so. But I now begin to feel that this was wrong; that nohodj can have so good a right to get letters from my own hand as my own nearest friends; and that if my father and you have been so indulgent hitherto as not to complain of my silence, that is just the stronger s reason why I should he quickened in my sense of duty to you, and do all that I now can to show you how fully I retain all the feelings of a son to you both, only (I hope) increased and strengthened by the absence, and by this long season of retirement, in which God has been calling me to reflect on my manifold deficiencies in duty towards you in the years that are past

‘But in spite of all this present comfort, it would be very sad to deceive myself, and very wrong to deceive you and my dear father with any flattering hopes for the future. God has been pleased to mark all such as ‘’ vanity;” and we are bound to consider the operation of his hands. Now I feel it, in my own flesh, to be most certainly true, that I have lost much ground during the last five months,^-so that Dr Kalley, with the affection and faithfulness of a Ohristiaa friend, told me that there is no hope of my getting better. And since this is the case, surely I am right in telling it to my dear parents, that they may be seeking to have their minds prepared, by the Holy Spirit, for what now seems inevitable. Returning to Britain would probably bring it to pass more rapidly; staying here may be a means, by the Divine blessing, of msing it come more slowly; but the course of God’s providence towards me all goes to show that it is comings — that “I must soon put ofl this tabernacle.”

‘My dear mother, this is a very solemn thought, — a sinful creature feeling it likely that, before long, he must render his spirit back to God who gave it. The wonder is, when we all know that we must do this sooner or later, that we can think of any thing else in comparison. Pray much for me, both you and my fether, that my sins may be blotted out in the blood of Christ; that, while I live, a large measure of the Holy Spirit may, for Christs sake, be given me, so that I may enjoy the full consciousness, before I go hence, of being “accepted in the Beloved,” “an heir of God, and a joint heir with Christ;” that I may be strengthened for every suffering, and especially for the last of all; and that ‘’ an entrance may be ministered to me abundantly into the everlasting kingdom of our Lord and Saviour.”.. •.

‘My dear mother, it is very possible we may never meet in this world; if t remain here, it is most probable, nay almost certain, we never shall. Shall we all meet in a better? Depending on the aids of God’s Spirit, let us all pray and strive that it may be so, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Meantime, God bless you all. — Heb. xiii. 20, 21. So prays your affection* ate son, J. H.’

The following note is from the journal: —

* Sahbathy 29t April 1839.

Two months of spiritual darkness, and trouble about many things. The Lord has dealt bountifully with me, in enabling me generally to hear Dr Kalley once a-day on Sabbath, and almost always to open my mouth for Him on Thursdays,-«-when, although my dulness and deadness of soid has prevented me from saying a word on the more spiritual subjects which came in our way, which I always handed over to my much more pious and experienced brother, Langford, — yet I have been enabled, I hope not without profit to some, to illustrate points of doctrine and the lower and plainer matters of duty.

* To-day, by God’s good providence, as I doubt not, much of Dr K.’s forenoon discourse was wonderfully

23S MEMOm OF JAKBB HALUBT.

applicable to my case. It was on Rey. iii. 1, 2. — liOTcl, blew it permanentlj to mj soul.’

Notwithstanding the painful sense of unfitness under which he laboured, his instructions we hij Talued by others. A letter written bj Mr HaUej to a gentleman now resident in Edinburgh, who had been in the habit of attending the prajer-meeting at Madeira, famishes indirect evidence of the estimation in which his expositions of Scripture were held.

* Sattifday Ewmng, 20ih April 1839.

* My dear Sir, — Your warm expression of brotherfy love so completely overcame me, that I fear I was unable at the time to breathe out an assurance how cordially it was reciprocated. Permit me now to supply the lack, and to tell you how earnestly my best affections will follow you as one of those whose presence and converse, so far as I have enjoyed them, have always refreshed me in this land of our sojourning. And if surrounded (as you too probably were) by some specimens of the ignorance of foolii man, you have felt yourself strengthened in any measure by the exercises of our meetings, you will join me in rendering thanks to Him who is able “frcmi the mouth of babes and sucklings to perfect praise.”

I believe no higher character than the stammerings of a babe is due to the most of what / at least have uttered on these occasions. And I have been repeatedly humbled by the thought (and never more than when you so affectionately addressed me to-day), that I have been professing to instruct some, at whose feet, so far as the real inward heart work of religion is concerned, it would have fax better become me to sit as a learner.

‘But as God has ordained the bounds of our habitation differently, permit me to ask that you will confer on me another benefit, which no distance of place

BY HIMSELF — AND BT OTHERS. 239

can inteirupt or hinder. I mean to bear me on your heart, when you attempt to “enter into the holiest by the blood of Jesns.” My need of your continued intercessions is great and pressing, not only firom the consideration that my time on earth seems likely to be short, but from this especially, that the natural bias of my mind unquestionably coincided too well with the peculiar snare of a professional education in theology, namely, the tendency to view Divine truth speculatively, and to attend to the furniture of the understanding vastly more than to the impression of the heart. Thus it is thsEt what I know and am thoroughly convinced of, I scarcely ever adequately ei; and I crare your earnest supplications, that God would send me heat as well as light from above.

‘You will not refuse the very trifling testimony of my endeared affection which accompanies this; * it will show, if it does nothing else, that I would not willingly be forgotten. And perhaps its very smallness may procure it a look, when the means of more ample instruction are not at hand.

* And now, my dear Sir, what can I say more? — “The Lord of all grace, who hath called us unto his eternal glory by Christ Jesus, after that you have suffered, a while, make you perfect, stablish, strengthen, and settle you.” So prays your friend and brother,

* J. H.

‘Jaime» Duncan, Etq W^’

The next letter, although almost wholly on the same subject, contains some new features, and exhibits some of the more tender traits of the writer s mind.

* Madeira, 26«ft .ipra 1839.

The melancholy news (although only on the under side) communicated in your last, I had, as you must know ere now, heard before. In February I re-p

* A book entitled * Shaw’s Immanopl,’ op wliictx Uiere in marked * Fl-om a companion in tribulatioQ.*

240 MEMOIR OF JTAMES ftAtAET^

quested Amot to tell you that my first impulse, oa hearing of your affliction, was to write to you; but, indeed, I felt myself quite incompetent, and I well knew that, with your ^ble and your father s writings you could not want for sources of consolation. But perhaps I was inexcusable in not performing .such an office of friendship, however feebly. If so, try to for-* give me on any score your kind ingenuity can inyeaL And let me help you with this explanation am<mg others, that I verily believe I could not thei have written of our dear Mary (permit the expression to stand, for, being your brother, I was surely hers) without a degree of emotion which would scarcely have been safe for me; and that I really felt myself unable at the time to grasp those strong comforts which I knew belonged to the case.

I have been amazed, my dear James, at the Diyine Icmg- suffering, in sparing me so long amidst the remoTals of many who seemed to bid far fairer for life; Sir D. K. Sandford, poor Forsyth, Mr Wilkie, your dear sister, and I presume I may by this time toe truly add, Mr Cadell, all gone down to the dust, and I yet above it! ‘It is marvellous in mine eyes.” Yet, strange to say,. I can live on as if all this were a matter of course; while, at the same time, in. sober thought, I know that ‘^ the graves are ready for me,” and find daily more deeply written in my own constitution the “sentence of death.”

‘From Amot, or Morrison, or Mackail, you will surely have heard some of my downward history since I wrote you. Lest you should not, I must sketch it;. In the beginning of December, I was recruiting rathei from the effects of my hseraorrhage, got a pony, and began to ride about a little, and visit a few sick folks, and one inquirer after the way to Zion — a merchant s wife, who (I have good confidence) is advancing in the way. By the by, on the 9 th December, we began public worship in the Scotch form (as many by this lime felt they could not in conscience go to hear Popery preached), our minister being a Mr Barrie of the Secession, who came out in charge of a sick youth, and our church a hall. Jan, 3, — Langford and I alone (about 15 English clergymen either opposing or indifferent Lowe preaching against it, and Lang-* ford himself so suspicious about exciting prejudice, that he would not accept the aid either of Mr Barrie, a Seceder, or Dr Kalley, an excellent layman, who is likely to remain as a missionary among the Portugaese), commenced our weekly prayer-meeting. It has been, blessed be God, better attended this year than it was last, — our numbers, before the strangers began to leave, being from 50 to 60. At present, when more than half the visitors are gone, it averages 80. Our subject has been, the Ist Epistle of Peter (preceded by one lecture on Peter s life and character), IjEuigford having Leighton, and I my Greek concordance and my memory, which last is really tolerably firesh. We have got on slowly, but done our work pretty thoroughly. I have acted the expositor; and Langford, who is a fine, warm-hearted, assured Christian, and excels in appeal, has dealt with the more spiritual and hortatory parts, — a sanctuary into which I felt I durst not enter. Last Thursday we did the first clause of the 17th verse, 1st chapter; and I presume tthe rest of that verse will give us work for next Thursday. The point I mean to elaborate, God willing (for I want to let you see, as it were, how we do), is, how God can be said to judge all according to their works, when he justifies the righteous by fkith. The rest leviter perstringam leaving them chiefly to Langford. Some have said they have been refreshed by e meetings; more have had their views on some things cleared. Neither of us have suffered sensibly in consequence of them; and we are thankful we began. But I must back to my narrative. Jan, 13, — Barrie’s charge being just dying, he could not preach. In the forenoon we made a prayer-meeting of it, Dr Kallej reading a chapter, and giving a ronning commentary; in the afternoon Kalley took both prayers, and / preached (jtace Presbterii Sdinetms) on Rev. xxiL 5, first clause. The room was full, and a good many standing round the door; was much excited; but felt no harm. Felt it a glorious thing to preach, if one could but entirely forget one’s self, and be absorbed in ope’s subject. And here I may let you into the secret of a little weakness I was guilty of. I knew veiy well I could never preach at home; but, baTing noticed one or two in tears, sKietg yu*’ ^^vi* f<Hr a short time, that I mi?ht possibly go home this summer, get licensed in Edmburgh, and do a little, in a rular way, in the work of the Lord here next winter. It was a very delightful dream; and even the ghost of it, though sadly attenuated, is fair. In the same month (the English clergy, in consequence of Mr Lowe’s disapproving it, having resolved to have no clerical meeting like last year’s one), Langford, Barrie, Kalley, and I formed ourselves into a little fellowship-meeting, which meets in my house, and to which a Mr Ware, a London attorney, and Mr FuUerton the publisher, have since been added. Barrie lefb in the end of February, and Mr Ware goes to-morrow; die rest continue to meet for a time. J. H.

‘Ren, Jamea HamiUon* *

From the journal: —

‘Sabbathy I9th May 1839.

‘By the arrival of the packet, the letters are now in our hands which will determine our return home, or continued residence here. But I do not open thera till to-morrow; desiring, by the help of the H(^y Spirit, to devote this evening to such contemplations or the Divine dealings with me, and the grace of Qod in the Gospel, as” may strengthen me to foHow what-

* Hopeitolein.

erer course the letters prescribe; or, if they settle nothing, maj put my mind into such a mhn state as Till be most faTOurable for formijbg a judgment on a connected view of the whole of our present circumstances/

Although they no longer cherished any expectation of his recoyery, his friends at home consented that he should remain at Madeira during the summer. Indeed they did not think he could surriye the royage, and as he did not express any relactance to stay, they were willing rather that he should die there in peace, than that he should attempt the voyage home with so little prospect of being able to accomplish it. The next letter, written after his stay had been determined on, is addressed to his father. We extract a portion of it, regarding the education of his younger brother.

Madeira, 2Sih May 1839.

‘My dear dear Father, — Especially would

I wish to know how Patrick*s mind opens, what questions he asks, and so on, on the subject of religion. I hope he grows in obedience as he grows in stature, and that his mother has been taking opportunities to impress it and other duties upon him &om religious considerations.

I am sorry that I feel myself unable to meet with any fulness your request about his education. And chiefly for this reason, that I do not know whether he has shown any wish for one occupation more than another in after-life. For my own part, unless some decided evidence appear that it has pleased GU)d to change his heart and make him truly one of his own children, I have no wish that his education be conducted with any reference to the possibility of his entering the holy ministry; for I think there cannot be a more miserable being on earth than a man who preaches the Gospel heartlessly and without feeling it With your fimited means, therefore, unless some decided inclination towards the ministry (founded on truly pious feelings) were to appear, or a strong wish to enter the legal or medical profession, I do not see that you are called upon to carry his classical education very far. But you must strenuously insist at present on his giving real earnest attention to his own language, to acquiring a good current hand, which will be of use in any occupation, and to arithmetic and book-keeping. And I should wish that he learn no more dancing (it is but furnishing him with the means of temptation), but that, as soon as possible, he be put to learn French, which will be of greatly more use to him. And whenever Mr Macnab thinia he is master of arithmetic up to decimal fractions, I would have you send him to Mr Connel in the High School, or some other equally good teacher of mathematics, and let him learn plane and solid geometry, algebra, and trigonometry; which, besides beiog an excellent mental exercise in the meantime, would give him the means of prosecuting any branch of science he might care for; or, if he should think of being a land-surveyor, or engineer, or any thing of that sort, would be of the greatest use to him. But I think all these acquirements quite secondary — indeed as the small dust in the balance — compared with bringing him up Jbr eternity in the knowledge and, as fiar as precept, and prayers, and example will go, in the practice of true religion. I know, by very considerable experience, the evil of giving the mind up entirely even to things’ that are accounted good and praiseworthy among men, while “the good part that shall never be taken away,” was forgotten or disregarded. And I would rather have my brother the veriest dunce that ever was, “if so be £he Spirit of Christ dwelt” in him, than the most learned and distinguished of men without it. Let it be your endeayour, then, to urge him, that “with all his getting he get understanding,” — that he “seekr*^ the kingdom of Godd his righteousness,” for then ‘^ all other things shall he added.” It is quite wonderfiilhoiiv much better one’s commonest pursuits .will prosper, how much more cheerfully and completely common duties will be done, if they are done under the impression that “every one of us must give an account to Ood.” If Patrick can be brought, by divine grace, to live and walk imder the dominion of this feeling, and to know ‘the love of Christ which passeth knowledge, I am sure, that even though he should go on slowly in his learning for a while, all will come right in the end; while, if this be absent, he will, in increasing knowledge, be only “increasing sorrow.”,.. * My dear Father, I cannot say how greatly I long for the spiritual good of yoarself and my mother. Janet will be able to tell you, if you ask her when you and she meet, about a letter she got from me about your birth-day in 1837; in which, being then under influenza, it was said, that supposing my own soul were thoroughly established in peace with God, I would willingly die on the morrow, if God would bless it to you.* In one sense it has pleased the Lord to take me at my

word. He is removing me in the mid-time of my days. Oh! let us not want the blessing through the fault of not seeking it. “The Word of God and prayer” are the grand appointed means for sanctifying to us every dispensation. They are always at hand; and “the Spirit himself also helpeth our infirmities.” To his blessed teaching and guidance, and abounding comforts, I desire to commit you all. Try to long for him, to depend on his aid, to feel his presence with you; ask him for a simple faith in Christ, for peace, and love, and hope, and joy; and who knows how abundant and refreshing the answer may be. — Eph. iii. 20, 21

See p. 88.

‘And now, my dear &ther, the reiy God peace sanctify you wholly, gaide you by his counsel, and afterward receive you to glory. S§ prays your very affectionate son, J. H.

Mir Thomoi HaUey.

‘P,S, — When I next write home, it will be to Patrick.’

The promise of a letter to his brother was very soon fulfilled. It is unique, and we present it almost entire. It is an effort in a walk of very great difficulty — a walk, too, in which he had not mudi experience, and we beliere our readers will account it eminently successful. We think it as good an evidence of the versatility of his talent as any thing We have been able to present. It is known to his friends that he considered himself very defective in the power of speaking or writing in a style simple and attractive to young persons. His course of study and habits as a scholar were not favourable to the cultivation of that talent; but genius sanctified enabled him to overcome these difficulties, and to become all things unto all.

‘Mabeira, 12t4 JwM 1839.

* My dear Paty, — Our difference in age is so great, and my time has always been so sadly taken up, that I believe this is the very first whole letter you have ever got from me. And who knows whether it may not be the will of God that it should be the last* This, my dear boy, will probably go a good way in making you attend to the little I may now be able to say to you; especially if you reflect how possible it is that there may not be another little (big?) boy in Britain, who is hearing from an only brother, at such a distance, and in circumstances so solemn.

‘Now let me begin the few words I have to write, by putting you in mind of what we were about when

LETTElt TO HIS YOUNOEB BROTHER. 247

we were last together. You remember what we did when I had some thoughts of going to Jersey, before Madeira had been much spoken of. We took the map of Great Britain and Ireland, and endeavoured to learn from it the roads and distances, that we might fix what would be the best route to get easil j to Jersey. That was our object; and we were very willing to pay attention to any map or guide-book which might direct us in our journey to it. Now there is another object which all of us would like to get at; very few, at any rate, if you asked them, would say any thing else than that they would wish to reach it; that object is heaven. But if we would perform this great journey rightly, so as happily to reach its end, we must very diligently search our guide-booh. You are already quite prepared to name that book, — it is the Bible, Now, my dear brother, what I would like you to ask yourself is — whether you have read the Bible for this purpose. We are very apt to read it as a lesson, or merely because we are bidden, or with the thought of getting some good which yet we cannot name or lay hold of. But our duty goes far beyond any such light and careless treatment of it; we ought to read it, as being, in very truth, “the words of eternal life,” and as sent to us by Grod for the express purpose of helping to make us truly happy in the love, and favour, and service of God himself. And surely if we think nothing of the trouble of taking food three or four times a-day for the nourishment of our bodies, which must die after all our pains, we ought to be much more willing to take, at least as often, something of that food which God has provided in his Word for our souls — the nobler part of us — which can never die. Is it not a sad proof of our sinfulness, that we are so much less anxious about the latter kind of food than we are about the former? My dear brother, let me urge you to seek an appetite for this spiritual nourishment, from Him who can give it.

248 MEHOnt OF JAMES HALLET.

Ood. might, T^ithout any one being able to blame him, have left us to stanre in our own penrersit j; bat in great mercy he has taken another course, and has told us that he will “give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him;” and that good Spirit can create a new heart, and impart those desires (for the knowledge of God and for holiness) which we had not by nature. Blind, then, as we are, and foolish; ready to tarn away from the Word of life, and unable of ourselves to understand it rightly; what can we do but go in humble prayer for the aid of Him who can give us clear light and eager desire? — “For Christ’s sake, O Lord, pour thou out upon my dear brother the gift of thy Holy Spirit, that he may long after the knowledge of thy will. May his heart be softened, may he feel himself a lost sinner before thee, may he be taught aright by thy Word and Spirit about Christ as a Saviour, may he be led to trust and rely on him for salvation, may he be cleansed and sanctified, and enabled to walk with God while on earth, and at last may both of us meet together in heaven! We are worthy only of thy wrath; but give us all this for thine own Son s sake. Amen.”

‘My dear brother, I am very earnest you should think on these things now. I have seen a good deal during the few years I have lived, of many of those things which men think the best, and of the ways they try to make themselves happy; and the more I think of them, I feel the more certain, that all must find themselves on a wrong course, who do not seek, as the veryjlrst element of their happiness, to be reconciled to God through Jesus Christ, And, I am sure, that to delay a thorough turning to God, is just to delay being happy; and to refuse it, is to refase happiness. I am very anxious that my dear brother should not have to look back upon so many years of distance from God as I have to look back upon; and that, when you come to die, you may have this, among other things, to mention as a subject of praise and joy, that you began early to serve him, and (if it he his will) continued long. I often pray that you may have this inexpressible comfort

‘The devout reading of the Holy Scriptures is the chief thing I want at present to press upon you. Some other very plain duties I would also barely mention: obedience to your parents, as in the fear of God, that you may console them as much as possible for the loss they must soon sustain; diligence in your learning, that you may be fit for the duties of life; and cultivating a quiet and gentle temper, which will not only gain you the favour of others, but add immensely to your ovm peace and enjoyment.

* When you write next, let me know how you get on, and what you are doing in the Sabbath school; and whether Mr Fowler or Mr Amot has any class for tall boys like you for religious instruction. Ask mother to buy you, for my sake a nice little book, entitled “Pike’s Persuasions to Early Piety;” read it as soon as you can, and tell me what you think of it. ....

‘Tell fisither and mother that I always bear them on my heart; as also I do yourself. And now, my dear brother, farewell I “May the God of peace, who brought again from the dead our Lord Jesus, that great Shepherd of the sheep, by the blood of the everlasting covenant, make you perfect,” &c. — Heb. xiii. 21. Ever your most affectionate brother, J. H.

* Pattvk Halley:

The following notice of the conclusion, for the season, of the weekly prayer*meeting, occurs in the journal, of date June 6th

Thwrtday, 6tk June 1839.

* To-day, Langford and I, after five months of our weekly labour, held our last meeting. We took a general review of the truths declared in the 1st chap.

250 MEMOnt OF JAMBB HALI£T.

of Ist Peter, which we hare gone over in course. I was in great darknees and confusion of spirit; and, though I fdt this to be my last public service — the finishing of m j active work for God, I was compelled to abstain from allnding to so instmctiye and affecting a topic. Through these meetings, 98 persons hare heard more or less of the truth. Attendance never below 20; once 66.’

The next letter gives evidence of an activity and energy of mind altogether extrdordinary in a consumptive patient. It contains also some valuable hints on the Oxford heresy.

Mabeiila, I7th June 1839. ‘My dear James, — It is now more than a year since I wrote you a letter, which reached Edinburgh when you were in London, disclosed certain hopes and wishes of a literary kind, and asked advice about employment for my pen, which (as is the fate of advice in general), when it came, I felt myself unable, some might say, unwilling — to take. That letter, if my memory serves me right, left this on the llth June 1838. So more than a year has afforded tolerable room for trying, whether my brains, once prolific enough as regarded the quantity of their products, are now capable of yielding any thing to fiice that august tribunal — the public. The result, I lament to say, is nothing; partly for want of strength, partly for want of ammimition; partly from the feeling that subjects of Christian experience, on which some men could do much by simply digging inward, were not to be treated by one of such imclean lips; and partly from the obvious fact, that on matters of speculative theology, on some of which I could really have written with good will, one needs, in simple respect to his readers, to have a corpus of information by him to be able to state and discuss what others have thought; in short, to display a greater amount of” ftimiture*’ than is at

^,ail compatible with one’s opportunities in this distant {’island of the sea. For some time, also, I had the impression that it would not be my duty, as drawing nigh another world, to devote the strength of my mind ;^ to speculative points; but if other things were favourable, and if it were not too late, I could now get over this; for I see, or I think I see, that if I were more likely to be of some use, however trifling, in this walk, it would not be right to decline it, because of mj want of qualification to enter on. some of those things which are higher and more spiritual. ^’ To every member his own office.”

‘My former letters will have informed you that the Oxford Popery is one of those topics on which I would have been most eager to let myself forth. As a general corruption of Christianity, it would authorise one to enter upcm almost any field in the compass of revelation. And my farther reading on it since my last despatch to you, has only convinced me more strongly of the truth of what I then said, that we of the Church of Scotland have peculiar advantages in entering upon such a controversy. An Anglican, however evangeUcal, as I have painfully seen, both in reading and conversation, is sure always to have a favour for some little comer or other in the system; and the very best of them are clogged and embarrassed by the worse than ambiguous expressions in their formularies about baptism. And the able statement made by Isaac Taylor, in his first panhlet on ‘’ Ancient Christianity and the doctrines of the Oxford Tracts,” of the difficulties which beset various sections of Christians in England in attacking the Oxford men, makes it evident, by the points he condescends on, that no such hindrances would attach to a Scottish ^pdnister, who should give his strength to this great argument. Besides Taylors No. I., I have read “Archdeacon Brown’s Charge,” and “Capes on Church Authority, Tradition,” &c., — the former a very fair expose of some things; the latter a remarkably well arranged and closely reasoned work on the right of private judgment, going to the very bottom of the subject, and yet written with admirable clearness. It is the most free of all the works I have met, of those errors in positive theology, which, I think in xnj last, I charged on some others who attack specific points in the Oxford system; yet, strange to saj, he states it as a matter of thankfulness that the formularies of the Church of England admit of men being within her pale who hold both views of tradition, — i, e,y the right one, or equally with it, the one on which he has thought it worth while to write an 8vo, volume, to show that it is wrong. For my own part, I reckon her fast and loose standards the very bane and reproach of the English Church. Possibly 1 told yoo, that of single books on the Puseyite plan, so far as I have seen them, “Newman’s Justification” has the “bad eminence” of being the most pestiferous. “What a shame to England that no detailed answer to it has yet appeared! The effrontery of some of the man’s misstatements is indeed so enormous, that readers of any information will be led to suspect him; but these are a sad minority; and there is an air of logic and a tone of confidence about him that may deceive many. I fdlly intended to have reviewed the work; but it was asked from me just as I was on the eve of commencing; and I found, on more reflection, that the above mentioned want of ammunition was an effectual bar. I wanted to have followed out his close agreement with Bellarmine; but Bellarmine I had not. I wanted to have exposed his shameful artifice in taking his statement of the Protestant view from Luther and Melancthon, instead of the better digested statements of Owen, Edwards, and O’Brien, none whom he ever quotes (he refers, indeed, to O’Brien, and dismisses him by a side wind, in his preface; but you would never firom his b€k)k suspect that the two great Protestant writers on justification, Owen and Edwards, had ever written on it); but Edwards was the onl J one of them I had at hand. I wanted to have shown how nicely Downame, a bishop of his own Church, upet long ago some parts of his theory; but the Downame I consulted is snug under the wing of our friend William Park. Finally, I wanted to have shown the futility of the common logical classification of causes, as far as the including a “formal cause” goes

; for it is on this distinction, shadowy at best — but I should go farther, and call it wholly unsound — that much of his treatise proceeds; but I had no logical work by me from which to give an authorised statement of the common doctrine of causes, and it was possible I might not have given it rightly from memory. These, my desiderata I mention, not in the way of complaint (for surely goodness and mercy have followed me), but to vindicate my silence on a subject on which I might have been thought likely to write; and as hints of /oa, to you or any other of my friends who may care to review Newman, on which something might very well be said.

‘But I think I hear you ask, — Granted your reasons fix not doing this or that are good, what have you been doing (r, iroiiig ereov;) all these twelvemonths? And I can almost fancy you conceiving with yourself the pathetic answer: Heu! quantum mutatus ah illo Hectare! This accounts, certainly, for venr much of the infecta; but ih% facta remain to be told.

* Resumed: 22d June 1839. * Well, then: I have dressed, eaten, ridden while able, done my best to sleep; visited occasionally, as a professedly Christian friend, a few invalids; aided at a prayer-meeting on the Thursdays, from the beginning of January to the beginning of June; and read about 80 volumes, many of them, however, of rather Lilliputian dimensions, 37 of them being works in practical Christianity (inclusive of lives and the like),

254 MEMOm OF JAMES HALLEf.

and 14 or 15 being on that vexata qmesHo already alluded toi If I hare made progress in any thing, it is in the knowledge (I fear not in the sense) of the deep and inveterate corruption that reigns in me, and (I think a good deal) in observing the obstacles which withstand £he reception of the Gospel, in the shape of prejudice, indifference, and other sinful states of mind. Were I ever to come into the ministry of the Word, this last part of my Madeira experience would not be quite useless. But of all such hopes we have long said, “Vixere” I have unritten nothing, save one sermon, a little Address in defence of Prayer-meetings, and long letters not a few. Yarious designs have indeed passed through my mind; but the difficulties always arose in the style of ^’ Alps upon Alps,” and I have no longer a “stout heart” to set to a “stey brae.” The last and most cherished design, and the only one which I have now even a faint and glimmering hope of attempting, is series of ^’Letters to Divinity Students and Licentiates, especially of the Scottish Church.” I have had much experience, in my own person, of what a student should not do; and so, per contra, might be able to say what he should do. But no more of this castle-buiilding; if any stones are really laid, you may hope to hear of them.

*Bur8U8: Ut July 1S39.

* ... I continue tolerably; my leg now a mnning sore; walk on crutches; very weak, but, by Divine mercy, very little pained. But sin abounds; pray that grace may much more. That the Lord himself may bless and keep you, and greatly honour and prosper you in your glorious office, give you the blessed experience of his presence, and at last take you to himself, is always the prayer of one who can never cease to love you, J. H.

‘Bev. James Hamilton:

The possession of such a letter, while it shows the gtBYERB ILLNESS. 255

wiiteis gifts, deepens our regret at the loss which the Church has sustained in his early remoyal. We -would say, that at the present time there is peculiar need of talents such as his: hut the Lord reigneth; and He will provide his own instruments to defend his own cause.

The following short postscript in a letter to a young friend whose brother had lately entered the work of the ministry, refers to a subject which he never approached without strong emotion. It is dated 2d July 1839.

^... I cannot conclude without again begging, for myself, to be most affectionately, just as one who is in heart a brother ought to be, remembered to John. The Lord be with him in his glorious ministry! I often think, as I lie here like a piece of driftwood on the waters, what a comely young noinister John must make; and I do not know what I would give to witness the expression of your mother’s feelings, when she sees him, with all the authority of an ordained servant of Jesus Christ, beseeching id charging sinners to be reconciled to God.

For myself, all thoughts of such an honour are long gone by. Hie will of the Lord be done! Do you know, I sometimes find it harder to say this now, than I could at an earlier period of my illness. But, into whatever sin of unbelief or murmuring I may be tempted, I can still bear witness (if necessary, against myself), that the Lord is gracious, and that goodness and mercy have followed me. So, whatever may befall me, ‘^ Blessed are all they that put their trust in him,”

My dear friend, this world is all too little for the goodwill I bear you: it reaches out into eternity; and contemplates nothing short of your being one of tibat multitude which no man can number, who have

256 MEMOnt OF JAMES HALLEY.

washed their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. Amen and Amen.

‘So over prays your most affectionate friend

‘J. H.

* Mr George Wr:

On the 10th of July another haemorrhage occurred; but it was not nearly so severe as the former. He lost only about a breakfast cupfull of blood, and was not more than a fortnight confined to the house. Of the reflections on this attack, entered in the journal under seyen distinct heads, the two last are as follows:

(6.) Was a lesson to say, “If the Lord will;” which was needed; for, when asked if we meant to go on board the Dart, ere she sailed on the lldi, I said, “Yes, if a boat is to be had.” There were plenty of boats, yet I was not there. (7.) A new and much needed warning of dismissal. The Lord be praised for its reasonableness and gentleness. It seemed just an answering of my prayers ‘’ by terrible thin in righteousness.” Yet how long would it haye been ere I should have asked the bursting of an artery? How unsearchable are his judgments! ‘^ Oh the depth of the riches,” &c.’

In the postscript, written August 5th, of a lett» begun on the 10th of July, occurs another of those sad reminiscences which he liked so much to indulge.

I take a pleasure in endeavouring to finish up this letter to-day, in commemoration of the last picturesque walk which you and I had together. It took place just this day two years (being a Saturday), and the scene was from Tillicoultry to Castle Campbell. I have in my mind’s eye at present the very paling on which, after climbing up through that old gravel pit above Dollar, I sat astride, watching your progress through the interyening ^’ ley’* till you were lost in the Castle woods, or rather titl a commencing shower compelled me to seek refuge in a house below. Full well, also, do I remember the kindness of the guidwife of said house — a Mrs Wright — who would take no pajrment for her excellent warm milk; and,ya/ot»- inff that I was a bookish lad, entertained me with many spolia opima which a son of hers had borne off from Dollar Academy, — in virtue of which (fortunate youth!) he was now promoted to be an usner in the said institution. Nor can I forget, as I was then beginning to guess at the real nature of my own disease, the melancholy thought that shot across my mind, that my father might soon be showing to some one certain spoils of literature in Great Hamilton Street, as the trophies of a son that once was his. I recollect also, that it was with a feeling akin to enyy, that I saw you set off that afternoon, at such an easy swinging pace, with your vasculum surmounting that invisible green coat, which really seemed almost to bear a charmed life.’

About this period a number of Mr Halley’s friends at Madeira employed an artist to take his portrait with the intention of presenting it to his father. To them, (M>nsequently, we are indebted for the power of presenting the print which accompanies this Yolume. The likeness is good. Although he was by that time much emaciated, it distinctly recalls his appearance to all who knew him. We find the following notice of it by him self in a second postscript to the letter last quoted.

* It will please you to be told, that nine gentlemen here, four of them being ministers of the Church of Cngland, — viz., Langford, Shute, Freeman and Wall, took it into their heads to ask me to sit for my portrait, which they wished to present to my father as

258 MEMOm OP JAMBS HALLET.

an expxeBnon of sjmpatliy ivitli him under this trial. It was executed in a small size in wsiier colours, lpj a Mr George, an exceedingly able artist, who has been here in delicate health, and whose great personal kmdness to me was shown in his stating to these gentlemen that, had they not anticipated hun, he had meant himself to have asked me to sit. It is in my father’s hands before now, having been put into them by (me of the donors, William Fullarton, Esq., of the publishing house of Arch. Fullarton & Co.’

The next letter is addressed to a relative in Glasgow, about to commence the study of theology, with a view to the ministry. It is of great length, and contains minute directions on every branch of theological study. Looking to the number of books mentioned, with the notices of their contents and estimate of their character, the letter, written so far from the means of consulting authorities, is an amazing effort of memory. Although strictly professional, it will be found by no means unintelligible or uninteresting to the general reader. The introductory paragraphs in particular, are very plain. We give them in the hope, and with the prayer, that those to whom they are specially addressed may understand and apply the solemn instruction they contain. The known talents of the departed vrill we his judgment weight with those who are following in the same course. It may do them good to read, in language so tender and so scriptural, what was ‘uppermost’ in his esteem as a qualification for the Christian ministry.

Madeiba, I2th Augiut 1839.

‘My dear Henry, — .... Be sure you refer my silence to a want, not of affection, but of strength. And that you may do so, let me tell you, that youlve

BOW a double place in my daily prayers, not only as one of my dearest kindred in the flesh, but as having the near prospect of engaging in a systematic preparation for that glorious ministry, of which I have most righteously been deemed unworthy. In connection -with your entering on such a course, you will sufier me, in all humility and love, to tender you a few words of counsel and exhortation. And, as I know I shall haye a good deal to say, and reckon it highly improbable ihat I shall again be able to address you, I haye taken one of the largest sheets in my possession, and have begun it with a density which will show you how much I wish to put into it all of my head and heart on this subject that it will hold, and how heartily any little strength that remains to me is at your service in such a cause.

I mention first of all, because it is really uppermost, in my esteem, fis a qualification for the ministry, that you be personally reconciled to God through the blood of his Son, and diligently strive after a comfortable assurance of being so. On this I feel that it would be presumptuous in me to enlarge at any length, when I consider how much better fitted both by years and character, to enforce such an admonition, are your .... Yet I may be allowed just to say, that this is clearly the Gospel order — “Lovest thou me? Feed my sheep.” “tVe also believe and therefore speak.” €M hath reconciled us to himself, and hath given to us the ministry of reconciliation.” Take heed unto yourselves and to all the flock.” “It pleased Gkn], who called me by his grace, to reveal his Son in me, that I might preach him.” And it will take no great reflection to make it manifest, that, without a consciousness, and that tolerably clear and constant, of a personal union to Christ, — there cannot, if a man’s ecmscience is at all awake, be much comfort or peace in preaching the Gbspel. One could not help feeling that, for aught he knew, he might be an Uzzadi touchr

2^0 HEMOm OF JAMES HALLEY.

ing the ark. And hence arises a peculiar and most powerful call on every one who would be a Goepd minister, not merely to be a believer, but to press after assurance. For, next to the misery of preaching what one does not believe at all, must be the miseiy of preaching truths, which, though fully received by the understanding, one is not sure he has felt in thek power and influence on the heart. May I mention “Owen on the 130th Psahn,” and “Guthrie’s Christian’s Great Interest,” as books, from their plain, close, and searching character, altogellier invaluable in assisting one to conduct that process of sifting and self-examination, without which (I believe I may say) it is not usually God’s method to lead any to a setded and strong conviction of their personal interest in the Redeemer.

* But, leaving this topic to your own meditation, and to the farther light on it which others are so much better qualified to give, — let me go on to speak of that training and furniture in the way of study of which I may be supposed to be less unfit to give some account, from the circumstance of having recently passed through it, and having it firesher in my recollection than may be the case with older men.

* Your course begins with the Evidences; which, of course, presupposes a general knowledge of Natu- ral Theology, On the principles of argumentation, on which all natural theism rests, you will find no book to compare with th first two volumes of Chalmers’ works. The following put of these into detail, will be so interesting a task, as almost to come under light reading. Such books as “Paley’s Natural Theology,” the Bridgewater Treatises, and “Duncan’s Philosophy of the Seasons,” will be your authorities. And I have been told by a very competent judge, that the three large volumes, by Dr MHUuUoch 3ie Geologist, on Natural Theology, will amply repay a very diligent perusal.

COUBfiE OF STUDY FOR THE MINISTRY. 261

‘On the Evidences themselveS) pennit me to mention the following books, which are in mj small collection, as very much at your service, — Porteus’ Outline, Paley’s Evidences, Chalmers’ Evidences, Grotius de Veritate Christianae Religionis, Butlers Works, Campbell on Miracles, and his Sermon on the Propagation of the Gospel, Macknight’s Truth of the Gospel History, Leland’s Necessity of a Revelation, and Lidand’s View of the Deistical Writers. (I regret that Hill’s Lectures, and a small volume containing Watson, Jenyns, West, and Lyttelton’s Tracts, which I have, are here with me; but you will easily get these.) All these you should read. Macknight, especially, you will find a magazine of information, although badly arranged, and frigidly written; and, if you master him thoroughly, you will not need to trouble yourself with a still more cumbrous work, “Lardner’s Credibility.”

‘August 14. — Besides the works already named (of which, in case you should feel pressed for time, I may say I think Grotius, Porteus, and Chalmers, may be most easily omitted from your course of reading), I would strongly recommend you to peruse the Evidences, in two vols., by Daniel Wilson, now Bishop of Calcutta, the best work on the general subject that I know; Isaac Taylor s “Process of Historical Proof,” and “Transmission of Ancient Books,” which exhibit admirably the real logical power of the Christian argument, and in a page of one of which (by the by) you will find the whole elements of his book on Fanaticism;** the portion of Hill’s Lectures given. to the Evidences, which is very able, and “Leslie’s Short Method with the Deists.” These on the general subject. For carrying the war into the enemy’s territory, besides Leland above mentioned, you will find “Faber’s Difficulties of Infidelity “very ingenious and pointed;” Haly burton on Deism” profound; and “Thomas Scott’s Answec to Paine,”” Watson’s Apo*

26S MEMOIR OF JAMBS HALLEY.

logies,” ‘^ Andrew Thomson’s Sermons on Infidelity,” and Robert Hall’s celebrated discourse on the same sabject, well worth reading. Descending to individual topics, I would mention the Bishop of Chester’s (J. B. Summer) book as incomparably the best on the internal evidence, of which, also, it may be worth your while to read the liyely and graphic illustration in “Erskine’s Remarks.” Soame Jenyns was long reckoned a standard on this subject; but his views of Christianity were defective; and if you read him, yt)u should read also ^’Maclaine’s Animadversions” on him.’ On the place which internal evidence deserves to hold, you will find something very good in a small publication of Dr Meams’. On the €a;periment4d evidence, I would name Mr Turner’s admirable lec* ture in the Glasgow Series, and “Owen s Self-Evidencing Power of the Grospel;” it is also frequently alluded to in “Newton’s Cardiphonia,” and you may glean much on it from Christian biography. Allied, in some respects, to both of these kinds of proof, and more nearly, perhaps, to that arising from the visible effects of Christianity, is the argument so admirably pursued by Lord Lyttelton in his “Observations on the Life and Apostleship of Paul.” On prophect (besides Keith, which you know). Bishop Newton should be read for facts; and, on the principles of prophetic interpretation, “Kurd’s Warburtonian Lectures,” and a work by a Mr Davidson (which is said to be admirable), are the best books I know of. On the Evidences of Judaism (which I have not sooner named, because the divine authority of the Old Testament may be inferred from that of the New), the “Horse Mosaicae” of Faber, and the Lectures of Dr Graves on the Pentateuch, are all that could be desired. You may add, if you like, an ingenious little work by J. J. Blunt, on the undesigned coincidences in the Pentateuch; as on the New Testament history, you will find some good matter xpf the same kind in the

COUBSB OF STm>Y FOR THE MINISTBY. 2^3

work of the same author on the Grospeld, and more especially in Paley’s “HorsB Paulinae.”

On the subjects of the genuineness, authenticity, and credibility of Scripture, which come in very early in the study of the Evidences, there are matters of minute inquiry, which too many take on trust, but which, to be a well famished divine, you must look into some time, and the sooner the better. (I may say, en passant that the first volume of ‘*^ Marsh’s Divinity Lectures” gives the most clear-headed view I have any where seen of the natural succession of these kind of preliminary topics. He is an admirable critic; but I must warn you, that, on doctrinal matters, he is far from a safe guide.) These relate to the tea:t of Scripture, and the critical history of the different books. Respecting the text of the Old Testament, Dr Kennicott’s two dissertations, and the Prolegomena prefixed to his Bible, are all you will need; only you must watch him on the subject of conjectural emendatimis on which Griesbach’s principle, “Nihil mutetur e conjectural” is the only true one. On the text of the New, “Griesbach’s Prolegomena” (my shelves contain a copy of him) will claim your first attention. Whether his principles of fixing the text are right or wrong, his facts are most valuable. But his general critical theory has been ably impugned in a dissertation by a Mr Nolan on the “Integrity of the Textus Receptus,” — so ably as to shake my belief in it; and I understand (for I have not had an opportunity of studying them) that the Prolegomena of Scholtz, a more recent editor, have, in the general opinion of German scholars, finally overthrown it. When you buy a critical Testament, I would recommend you to get Scholtz, as all our libraries contain Griesbach already, and as the other will give both his views and their professed refutation. On the critical history of the New Testament, the work I liked best is “Hug’s Introduction,” which jrou will find in my library; it is firee from the licen-* tious audacity of Michselis, and a boat as learned. On the Old Testament, “Gray’s Key;” or, if you have time to go farther, and wish to keep up your Frendi, “Father Simon’s Histoire critique du Vet. Test,” although 5 yols. 4to., is an interesting book. On all these topics, much good information, mixed with a good deal of trash, in ‘^ Hartwell Home’s Introducdon.” One thing, in connection with the credibility of the evangelists, may require more researdi than usual: I mean the history of the resurrection. On this West is well known. And you will no doubt consult the harmonists, Doddridge, Macknight, Chemnitz, and (most recent) GreswelL The most satisfactory work I haye seen on it is “Dr Toymsons Dissertations;” but, as you may not get these easily (the only copy I have seen is my own, and it is here), I may add, that a good abstact of his view is given in “Mr Towsend’s Harmony of the New Testament,” which you will find in the Divinity Hall Library.

August 16. — I find so many things remaui, that I must be very laconic on each. One is apt to think, that after having generally ascertained the divine origin of Christianity, the very next point is to fix the precise authority due to the record in which it is embodied, — t. ^., to discuss the question of inspiration. But we are not yet done with preliminaries. For our chief proofs of inspiration are from the testimony of the inspired writers themselves, of whose credibility we are previously satisfied, and of their general divine commission. Now this testimony we must be able to interpret ere we can make much use of it. So that, if we are to study the theory and rules of interpretation, they must clearly have a very early place. I do not myself put much value on this; a competent knowledge of the original tongues, a clear Iiead, an honest heart, and the light of the Spirit, are the grand necessaries. But one may get good hints &om some

COURSe or STITDT FOB THE MINISTRT. 265

books, as Pareau and Ernesti. Home’s part on Interpretation is a preposterous melange. A queer little impudent book by a man Carson, exposes manj of tke false principles of writers on “Hermeneutik,” A knowledge of Jewish antiquities will be of great tise; on whidi my library will furnish you with “Godwyn’s Moses and Aaron,” and “Jahn s Archasol<^a Biblica.” “Calmet s Dictionary” is quite an indispensable book. I have just alluded to the original languages. On Greek I shall say no more, but that you should try to make yourself perfectly familiar -with the Greek Testament, so as almost to be able to tell, without looking, what word is used here or there. This will be a work of time; but it is a knowledge which will grow on you as you use the Greek Testament. The Hebrew you ought decidedly to commence to study your first year of divinity. Besides the general desirableness of getting this past, as you know not but your third session may need to be irregular, there is this oyerpowering consideration, that in doctrinal theology which I am supposing to be your chief study in your second and third years, not a step can be taken without Hebrew. Take the corner stone of Christianity for example, the doctrine of Christ’s divinity, — you need Hebrew to ^:l the meaning of “die angel Jehovah,” and of “the Father of eternity,” in Isa. ix. 6, — to satisfy you that Micah v. 2, may be read interrogatively, “Art thou little?” cf. 2 Sam. vii. 5; 1 Chron. xvii. 4<;) so reconciling it with Matthew, &c., &c. There are two dictionaries on my shelves; but I say little about them, as you will need one of your own. You will, of coiuree, buy Gesus. 1 believe the small Leipsic Bible, edited by Hahn, is both cheaper and more accurate than our English edition of Vander Hooght. You will not, I dare say, care for buying any other grammar than the small outline by Brunton (borrowed from Wilson). But my bookcase will yield you Wilson, Jahn, and Moses 16S MEMOIR OF JAMES HALLEY.

Stuart (if M. of R. has retamed it; if not, ask it of him, telling him, with mj kindest wishes, that, if he has not finished it ere now, he nver will); of these I consider Jahn the hest. In studying difficult passages in the Hebrew Bible, you will often find material hdp from “Michselis Supplementa ad Lexica Hebraica,” which is in the Hadl Library. Only he is Tery fanciful. As I have mentioned attendance on the Hebrew clasSy I may add, respecting the Church history (from which more good may be got than most of us obtained), that you can regulate your attendance on it according to your conyenience and other engagements, but that, as to the close and private sttbdy of the subject, it ought to be pursued in company with doctrinal theology on which it throws much light. Let me gire an instance. One who should interpret the expression, “left to the freedom of his own will,” in our Shorter Catechism, by the use of the phrase “free will,** in Reid and Stewart, would blunder excessively. The peculiar aspect which that controversy took in their writings, and in those of Edwards, was yet in the womb of futurity when the Catechism was written. To understand the expression as used by the Westminstor divines, we must ascend to the theological nomenclature of an earlier age. I am an ignorctmus rather, in Church history, never having read any one of the detailed histories of the Church right through. But, I believe, Fry is a good compendium. Some periods I have studied; and can recommend “Burton’s Bampton Lectures,” “Burton s History of the First Three Centuries,” “LordHailes’ Fragments,” Mosheim’s “De rebus Christianorum ante Constantinum.”

‘Pass we now to inspiration. All that can be said for those lower views of it, which make it apply chiefly to the thoughts, and scarcely at all to the words of Scripture, and which distinguish it into different degrees, will be found in “Wilson’s Evidences** {above named),” Dr Dick’s Essay and Lectures,’* “Dr Henderson’s Congregational Lectures,” and in some papers in the ‘’ Scottish Congregational Magazine,” by Mr Lindsay Alexander of Edinburgh. A kind of medium view is taken by Dr Chalmers in vol. 4 of his works, and by Dr Woods of Andover. But the view in which alone my mind can acquiesce is the high one of verbal inspiration. It is very well set forth in Mr King’s Glasgow Lecture; fully expounded in Robert Haldane’s work on the subject, and in an essay of Dr Eraser’s of Kennoway, in an excellent volume of a new family library (published by Affleck in Edinburgh, 1835), which contains also “Paley’s HoraB Paulmae,” and Dr Alexander’s (of Princeton) valuable work on the canon of Scripture; and vindicated from objections with great versatility of talent, but consummate impudence, in two books of Carson’s, one against Dick, Wilson, and Pye Smith, and the other against Henderson.

* The inspiration of Scripture being settled, its sujffi dency as a rule of &,ith, is the next subject of inquiry. This lands you in controversy with Rome and Oxford. But, although I feel that, had I lived and laboured as was once expected, it would have been my duty to go very deeply into this. I will not say, that, except on some very special call of Providence, it would be yours. I therefore name only one book against each class of adversaries; “Chillingworth’s Religion of Protestants,” and “Capes on Church Authority, Tradition,” &c. — both admirable.

(August 16.) — Omitting many things of considerable importance, I hasten to say a little on one of the very highest. Fortunately I am in good time in mentioning it, before you have purchased experience at the expense of failure in various plans. Every man, such as a divine, who wishes to concentrate his energies on one subject, finds in almost erety book he leads — not to speak only of directly professional ones — something he would like to preserve in connection with his main topic. Hence the use of common-place books. Now I have tried maaxj schemes; made innumerable blunders; and expended in such deyices more time, thought, and ingenuity, than on almost any other detail of study. Some plans utterly broke down; some partially succeeded, but were yet so cumbrous, that I could nerer haye made any thing of them, except for that somewhat extraordinary memory which God had graciously given me. I should have liked to describe one or two, bj way of illustrating the superior simplicity of one whidi only struck me when it was almost too late to use it But space forbids. Of that I am about to mention, I can only say, that, so £eur as I haye tried it, I haye found it very manageable; and you, by binjiing on it from the first, yyill find it more so. InObead, £en, of setting up a great book, the very size of which would discourage you, it would seem to fill so slowly, get a common 2s. white paper book. Mark it A; and when it is filled, your next yyill be B; and so on. Into this put, just as they meet you in your reading, all matters you deem worthy of copying, — endeaTOuring so to title each extract, as that it shall either illustrate some verse of Scripture, or some topic in a system of divinity. By a little ingenmty, this will be possible yyith almost every thing that will fidl in yyith the scope of professional study. Now for the way to have all this collection ready for use. Get one good copy of the Bible for your study-Bible, and use it throughout A reference one is best; and I greatly prefer the ruby 8yo. or pearl 8vo. Oxford Bible to Bttgater’s, Let your copy haye a good broad margin, even though it should be a little dearer. This, which yyill always be in your hands, will be your index to all things in your common-place book which iUnstrate texts, E. g.^ in *“‘Owen on the 130th Psalm,” is a beautiful discriminatmg statement between laying the foundation, and building the saperstructure. Yon think it finely iUiistrates 1 Cor. iii. 11, &c.; and you write it out in p. 60 of your book. WeU, just put in the margin of ycwur Bible, at 1 Cor. iii. 1 1, A 60; and, whenever you are going to write on that text, your mind will be turned to this illustration of it. You find, in a missionary work, a graphic account of the unsalisfa£toriness of idolatry: you engross it, say at p. 75; and opposite Isaiah xliv. 20, you write A 75. For the other class of extracts, get some small Latin System of Theology: I would recommepd “Marckii Compendium chiefly because of De Moors admirable expansion of it, which you can have from the Divinity Hall Libraiy. Interleave this; for it will not need, like the Bible, to be always in your pocket; and many short notes and references may be written on the white leaves* But every thing long will go into the other book, and only a reference to it here. E, g.^ I shall suppose you to possess, or have easy access to, ‘* Dr Seine’s Dissertations,” in one of which he argues largely that faith is mere belief; you want to remember this, and you write on the white leaf opposite the section on the nature of faith, ^’ Intellectual view of faith: see Erskine’s Dissertations.” But I shall again suppose you have only a reading of ^’ Dr O’Brien on Justification;” you think his proof, that faith is trusty excellent; you copy it in p. 10 of your other book; and opposite the section you put “Faith — Trust: Ax” or Bx as it may be.

I hope the above description is intelligible, but cannot enlarge: take its advantages on faith just now; I hope you will soon be able to add experience,

I meant to have said a little on some things on which you may be furnishing yourself incidentcdly as you go along; but can only name them. In going through the Catechism in your Sabbath school, you may be mastering, by the by, some system arranged

270 MBMOUt OF JAKES HALLEY«

as it ia, as Boston or Yincent. Presbjteiy — be wdi grounded here — Anderson, Brown, Mason. Independence of the Church — Charles Brown’s Crlasgow Leotore. Natural Historj, especiallj Geology* Sermons — Bradley, John Venn, Howels, A. Thomson, Crordcm, Welsh, Jones’ Baskets of Fragments.” General powerftd statements of troth — cannot go wrong in Howe, B^tes, Owen, Hopkins, and Barrow (bating his Arminianism). Join the best Preaching Society. Coltirate (I ralue it highly) an acquaintance with sacred poetry — Co¥rper, Montgomery, Kirk White, Xewton, Edmeston, Toplady, Wesley, Watts, Ragg, Pollok, Heber, Hemans, Milman, J. W. Cunningham,

&C.

I need not say with what pleasure I would hare filled up this outline, and gone on to give an arrangement of topics, and list of my &yourite authors in doctrinal theology and in practical piety. But the Lord will raise you up better advisers. To his ererlasting loTe and holy guidance I commend you, your father, your mother, your sisters, your uncle, and your aunts; and am your affectionate cousin, J. H.

‘Mr Henry Andenon*

Another letter — the substance of it written about the same time, though begun at an earlier date — gives similar counsels applicable to a prior stage of a student’s progress. It is addressed to one of his former pupils, for whom he had contracted, and to the last retained, a very strong affection. We give the portion that relates to a course of reading in moral philosophy, not omitting the characteristic introduction.

‘Madeira, &tk July 1839.

‘My dear John, — Eben-ezer! Memories causa I date this letter to-day, although, writing in bed, I shall be able to put down just now no more than a few lines.

Two years, my beloved friend, elapsed yesterday, since you and I had our last lesson in Great King Street; and it is two years to-day since, accompanied by my faithful Amot, I left Edinburgh for Forgandenny, — having closed up my desk with a solemn presentiment that I should never again, as a student, open it. It is now noon here; in Scotland about half-past one: at which time, two years ago, having left the coach on which I made my ineffectual attempt at KXriyiovta Amot and I were trudging along from Bridge of Earn to his father’s, he generously bearing my knapsack, and both of us making what speed we oould to avoid

an impending thundershower By the by, it

may interest you to know, that often, in the silent watches, when I cannot sleep, and am equally unfit to meditate, I have found a pleasing resource in turning hymns of Wesley, Watts, &c., into Greek, — the kind of memoria technical which, when one has got a certain command of vocables, is all that needs to be exercised, being to me a very light and interesting play

of the faculties As to your reading in moml

philosophy, I may venture to give a hint or two. The best systematic work on it I know, is, after all, Principal Dewar’s. His views are generally sound and Christian, and clearly stated; and he gives a fair catalogue raisonie of the leading Z^nrriiJ^ara. Dr Wardlaw’s Christian Ethics is mainly borrowed, in thought, from Dewar, but better clothed. Dr Chalmers’ Moral Philosophy I have not read; but I should think it will be good, especially for one who wants to make philosophy the handmaid of theology: and “Butler’s Sermons,” which are his great origo are well worth reading — although certainly not cw sermons, but as philosophical dissertations. The best and happiest application of the abstractions of moral science to preaching that I have seen, is in Chalmers’ 8th volume, — three sermons on the love of God; — but such a style of preaching, though interesting to

272 IfBlfOIR OF JAMES HAXXBT.

me as a student is what I should never hare chosen to imitate. It is our duty, however, to be armed at all points; and, although we maj not use that know* ledge in pulpit address, to know the exact points of contact between human science and divine. I need not name Reid, Stewart, and Brown; but on cue important point you would be as w to aocompan j them by reading ‘^ Edwards on Free Will,” and perhs also Crybbace. Drew’s two volumes on the ‘^ Inmui’ teriality and Immortality of the Soul,” you ought to master. Of the older writers on immortality, the best I remember is Dean Sherlock. Cogan’s Works on the pasdons exhibit considerable power of arrangement; but I should think the author must have bei aSocinian, from his great ii.dul|{ence to human natmew Gisbome’s book on Moral Philosophy (which, however, I have not read) bears a high character. I may add, that Blakey’s History of Moral Science is very poor, but may perhaps serve as a finger-post And, to keep up your remembrance of classical lore, as well as to bring you acquainted both with the strength and with the weakness of unaided reason, you would do well to read, thoughtfully, the Mem<frabilia of Xenophon, Plato’s Republic, Aristotle’s Ethics, Epictetos’ Enchiridion, and the Officia and Natura Deorum of Cicero, — alwajs allowing something for those shreds and fragments of divine truth which unquestionably got afloat among the heathen. Natural Theology is usually included, more or less, in a Moral Philosophy course. On the principles of argumenta — tion employed in this science, there is no book to compare with Chalmers. If you read Brougham, read also “Turton s Reply” to him. The following out of details will come m, in great part, as light reading. “Paley,” the Bridgewater Treatises, “Duncan’s Philosophy of the Seasons,” &c., will be your authors. And, as I have mentioned light reading, I may add, that, in my view, much of those ethics which are most useftd ultimately to the divine, is to he found in works that may fairly come under this character. I allude to works of descriptive moralists, — delineations of character, — and so forth. The “Ramhler” (although you may laugh) is not a had instance. Several of Hannah More’s “Works are better specimens of the kind of thing I mean. And, whatever knowledge of man and his motives one may acquire in this way, can all be turned to the service of the sanctuary, by coupling with it such a reading of rdigious biographies, as will show the working of the truth on minds of varied constitutions and temperaments.

* You see, in all this, I am remembering the one but “in which your efforts are at last to find their centre. I have no doubt you will steadily do the same, and be blessed in the deed. The next summer you will, of course, spend chiefly on the higher mathematics, in order to prepare for the natural philosophy. Here I will not presume to advise. Mr Kelland will be your best counsellor, or Professor Forbes. Only I may mention, that the first book which gave me a taste for analytical mathematics, — and these are now almost exclusively used in physical research, — was “Hind’s Trigonometry.” I swallowed it with absolute rapacity. And one principle I may name, more applicable to the purely demonstrative than to any other kind of study; — “never pass any thing without being sure you understand it.” ....

* And may the God of peace be with you, and with your very affectionate friend, J. H.

‘Mr John MackiTUosh*

The following is a very characteristic letter. There are parts of it which we would have wished to withhold; hut to mutilate it would have been to destroy its effect as an exhibition of the writer s character. It contains some exquisite touches of pathos. It is not written for the purpose of producing emotion, yet it will move: it is not written for the purpose of instructing, yet it will instruct.

Madeira, I9th September 1839.

‘My dear Amot, — Since I cannot write you as I ought and would, I must even write to you as I can. I have deferred it long, in the hope that haply I might be privileged to tell you a different tale from what my former letters had borne — to say something about being compassed about with songs of deliverance. But I can see enough in myself to render it manifest that God could not, in very faithfulness, bestow spiritual peace on one who deals so treacherously in his covenant. And so, with the strong feeling that the expression of my love and obligations to you is at all times a duty, be my own case what it may, and just to give some vent to an affection which only grows the more, the more I think of you, — I have resumed my pen, really not knowing how I am to fill my paper.

So you are again at your post — engaged in the work of the Lord. I need not say how much, in some respects, I envy you your honourable post. Yet I have repeatedly been made also to feel that the hand, which inhibited me from touching the ark, was one of mercy. I can hardly imagine a situation of more fearful temptation and peril than would have been mine, had I been allowed to enter the ministry, with the flush of college successes fresh upon me, and (although I had met with rubs and what the fjbttKaxoi would call hardships still), upon the whole, unsubdued by any affliction. How probably would my course have realized that which Paul ascribes to the v€ovrog I * Still, although reason and conscience most fully adopt this view, nature will revolt at the evanish-

Novice.

ing of all that one had hoped for; and surely He who knoweth our frame will pardon even a tear, when I learn of one and another, my juniors in study (yet, I confess, far my seniors in the faith), admitted to stations similar to that, to which, I may almost say without irreverence, the course of His providence seemed to point my aspirations. I do not know how it is; hut, when I endeavour to pray for you all, my brethren in the ministry, and those preparing for it (and I have a goodly list of names, of whom I thus make mention), 1 feel a strange sort of swelling at the heart, — something which cannot better be described than by saying that “my spirit is overwhelmed.” It finds its relief, however, in the contemplation of the dangers I have escaped, dear as the price of that escape has been, and in the certain conviction, that, if the great ends of the Christian ministry in Scotland would be in the least promoted by my sharing in it, I should not now be languishing in Madeira, and awaiting my dismissal

‘My dear Amot, go on and prosper; and the Lord himself be with you! Think much of your office; and the more, from the example that is now before you, that it is not to every one who seems to start ir that “this grace is given.” And, under the guidance of the Chief Shepherd, may you be enabled to feed your flock with knowledge and understanding, and yourself to go in and out and find pasture.

* Morrison would surely tell you of me up to the date of my despatch to him. Since th’fen my chest is very sensibly worse. The right lung, I am thankful to say, gives me little pain, and wastes away very gently; still, for all useful purposes, the doctor said on 29th July, it is as bad as a lung can be — no respiration in it. But the left, since that time, has been much pained (I think I have needed four blisters during the last fifteen or sixteen days); and, if I may judge from my own feelings, the work of destruction goes on more rapidly in it than ever it did in the ibef. On one account, I have much reason to bless God. My leg, though the sore is still open, is now so. easy, that I can ride daily; and I do so for an hour-^ — to hovn bong found to fever me. This resumpticm of ridii, and that too pretty pink complexion which I am beginning to assume, have deceived many of my fiieads here into congratulations; bajt k«ow better. It is a strange, an indescribable sensatioi to feel the little breath that remains alwfiys getting shorter, aad to be sensible (for I am a tolerably acute obsrvei; now) that the portion of thep wtoking lung wbih is- doing duty is becoming Readily, though stow less. And it is fearful whai even this ‘^ stence of death in oneselT yls to arouse one, and the soul languidly allows itself to be carried down the stream, without any certainty of exchanging this fleshly tabernacle for “a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.” My brother, pray for me.

‘It would seem that our perverse nature clings to objects in proportion to their worthlesaness. What is life to me now, compared to what it once seemed likely to be? And yet I appear to myself less willing to part with it. Strange — to be in love with sorrows! and yet not quite so strange, when the soul is bereft of the assurance that eternity vdll not disclose greater sorrows still. In some points of view my present state seens far from attractive. My whole body impregnated with

disease; lungs as above stated; the sore in my

leg, and of course my eye. Have lost sixteen pounds

since this time twelvemonth And, what is

rather remarkable, as the inefficiency of my right lung, and the seton in my left side have long rendered it impossible to sleep on the left side, the solid framework is distorted, and the extreme bone of the pelvis on the right side is nearly an inch more promint than the corresponding bone on the lefk;. Add to all, that, if peculiar mercy prevent not, the want of flesh is likely soon to compel me to abandon riding. Does this revolting detail disgust you? It well may, and I ask your foiyeness for having inserted it. But I hope to eduoe firom it two lessons which may be of use to you as an ambassador for Christ: that there is no state so wretched that God cannot alleviate it; yea, even with a preponderance of mercy; and none so abject, that our corrupt hearts will not cling to parts of it with something of a fond idolatry. The mercies which contribute to uphold me are very many. I have, now and then, letters from yourself and others, which assure me of continued sjrmpathy; £Uid ,it is an unspeakable comfort to think that my friends are mostly among those whose sympathy will always lead them to a throne of grace. I have many kind friends here. I have the remembrance of many signal mercies. I am situated among much that is beautiful and grand in nature; and my taste for such scenes, which you loiow was never very dull, seems of late to have been greatly quickened. Memory, too, seems to have experienced something of an invigoration; and all that I ever knew of poetry, Greek, Latin, or English, seems to be more in readiness to minister delight in association with the scenery, than it ever was. Only a few days ago, going out a little earlier than usual, and being iSinned by a “gentle air,” I felt as I never did before, the truth and beauty of Gray’s expression, “The breezy call of incense breathing mom.” In fine, I have still my old, tried, dumb companions — books, with whom I spend a large portion of every day. These mercies surely demand the liveliest gratitude; but alas! my prevailing humour is that of resting in them. I feel as one who would make them xiifinXjccj not xfiU’ara, something to be laid up guarded and retained not simply used as our brief time proceeds, and then contentedly parted tvith for ever. In this way Satan has got fearful advantage of me; and, between books, scenes, and friends, I am

278 KEMOIB O^ JAJfBB WALLET.

entangled in the meshes, now of one, now of another idolatry, and sometimes seem quite ready to adopt the desperate resolution, oo/oc xitrtfog duo;, o’srug riyb* tofMx.,* In this respect I have greatly retrograded of late. Two years ago, I think I had really more of a calm, sober, chastened willingness to die, than I have now. My affections appear to be flowing backward — avu leorafLdiv huv yjuoZtSi ^aya/, — and, not content with gratefully retracting, or (for even that might be pardonable) mournfully revisiting bygone scenes, and hopes, and companionships, would even sit down and dwell among them. I well know that His power alone, who stills the raging of the sea, can compose this inquietude of the spirit. And my prayer would be — and I know yours for me will be, that ‘’ as the eyes of a servant look unto the hand of his master,” so mine may be ‘’ upon the Lord our God, until that He have mercy upon me.”

‘Thank you for your August letter, and for the very interesting notice it contained of the Kilsyth work, I shall be glad to hear farther particulars, as they transpire.

* I finish this on the 24th. This day three years you and I spent our last few hours at Easterhouse; and on the 26’tli I left for Edinburgh. The consequences (partly) we now see, and yet I don’t regret that step so much as many others. “So days and years, and ages past,” &c. But the effects live, and will live, after we are gone. Ever affectionately yours,

‘J. H.

* R&o, WiUktm Arnot*

Early in October of this year, the religious circle of the place gained an accession of strength in the arrival of one of the ministers of Glasgow, who was obliged, for the sake of his family, to spend the winter in the

* Ag ivy clingy to oak, so I will hold by this.

island. Mr Hallej felt this a great refreshnuMit It was to him a spring opened in the desert. The following is his own account. Considerable exertion had been made, during the summer, to make provision for a resident Scotch minister in the island, but, from various causes, little progress had hitherto been made. After mentioning these difficulties, he proceeds,-^

‘But God has again renewed our hopes. Dr Henderson of St Enoch’s is here with his invalid wife, and has begun to preach under very favourable auspices.

L was simple enough to express a fear that Dr

H. might alienate his people from his preaching. Dr H. will be here at least three months — probably more. But even on the supposition which makes his departure earliest, I think he will have laid an excellent foundation for a Scotch church, I trust he will dispense the Lord’s Supper before he leaves, which will give a kind of consolidation to our meeting; and I have good hope that we may send him home with a commission in his pocket to send out a man.’

The progress of this infant congregation is more fully detailed in the following extract from a letter, dated 4th December: —

‘I have mentioned Dr Henderson as being here; but he deserves more than to be merely named. I trust he has been sent here for good. ... I had given up all hope of a permanent Scotch pastor here at present, and indeed felt that it lay with Providence whether we should have any public ordinances which I could conscientiously attend. It seemed like a meeting of our desires more than half way — a doing above what we had dared even to think, when Dr Henderson came — a man not only of high pulpit talents, but of the most amiable disposition, and admirably fitted, by his private intercourse, to conciUate respect and affection. A single sermon of satisfied him

that htal error was taught in the Elnglish Church; and he readil j agreed to the request of myself and three others, to preach to such of his countrymen as would come to hear. Eight weeks he has done so, with great earnestness and tenderness of spirit, and consummate ability. We have moved alrtadj from one room to another larger; and it, I think, will soon prove too strait for us. Very many of poor Lowe’s hearers hare come m time to time, and heard the truth as it is in Jesus. There has not, so iar as I know, been an objection breathed on the score of what is preached, and all admire the way in which. Of course, the high-church people object to it as schismatical Meantime, I trust we who hear feel

some gratitude for such a priviWe; and I both pray and hope that good may come of it. To myself personally, Dr H.’s conduct, although I knew him bat little in Glasgow, has been more paternal than friendly.

‘The little prayer-meeting, which was held last year in my house, is revived: members — Dr Henderson, Dr Kalley, Mr Langford (who is too weak to exert himself publicly this year), Mr Fullarton, Dr John Russell, and myself.

‘The public meeting for reading and prayer we have not, Langford and I being hors de combat. But instead, Dr Kalley has begun a meeting on Thursdays for prayer in behalf of missions; at which, however, I am sorry to say, the attendance has not been so encouraging.

I think I mentioned either to Mr O. or yoo, a hope which I entertained early in spring, of getting some of the Portuguese padres together to learn Greek with me. This I hoped to accomplish by means of a young man who has become very intimate with Dr Kalley, and had begun his education for the priesthood. He has since found that it will be a much pleasanter life to be a gentleman at laige, and so has abandoned his professional studies. Howerer, he kindly made inquiries for me; but the result showed I had miscalculated the movabilitj of mj materials — for the padres were unanimously like Oliver Goldsmith’s Principal of Louvain — they had got on all their days without Greek, and didn’t feel the want of it. So this door of usefulness was shut against me.

‘But Dr Kalley, in his own province, is getting on well. Not only has be a class of boys and “hafflin” lads every evening, who learn English from the Testament, but he has commenced a Sabbath school, which about fifteen of these attend; and, about ten days ago, three lads from the college came to him, asking to learn English at a separate hour, in the same way as the other class, and he having said that three were too few for him to give an hour to, they beat up for recruits, and he has now a dozen of educated lads (t. 6f., as education goes here), coming to him three afternoons in the week. He is also going to try to get out from England a Christian teacher, to keep an evening school for teaching adults to read, and I think has every prospect of succeeding. * Mr John WHsm.*

Mr Halley enjoyed intensely both the public ministrations and private visits of Dr Henderson. Besides the charm of hearing in that strange land a minister from his own native city, he valued very highly the character of the instructions delivered. He was in the habit of writing out on Monday a short abstract of the Sabbath’s discourse.

On the eve of his departure an address was presented to the Rev. Doctor by those of his countrymen in the island who had attended his ministry: ninety-one signatures are attached to it. The address was drawn up by Mr Halley, vnth all his accustomed precision

of thought and expression. Omitting the more pers sonal compliments at the commencement, and the kind wishes at the dose, we extract the following sentences, as not only creditable to the minister addressed, hnt highly characteristic of the writer.

“As it was the honourable boast of an apostle, that he “kept back nothing that was profitable, testifying repentance toward God, and faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ;” so we are assured that we do not err in cordially bearing you witness, that the same con — scientious rejoicing may most justly be yours. And we reckon it no mean praise of your work among us, that, thus bestowing your chief regard on what Christians generally admit to be most essential, you haye laboured, yourself to dwell, and to place your hearers, in a purer and higher region than that of doubtful disputation, and to preach the central truths of Christianity, ‘^ giving no offence in any thing, ihat the ministry be not olamed.”’

His project for having a Presbyterian minister settled in Madeira has so far succeeded. A minister was sent out by the Assembly’s Colonial Committee, and has commenced his labours. We regret to learn that his own feeble health has in a great degree retarded his operations. Having been several times, since his arrival, laid aside £rom work by illness, he has at last been obliged to tender his resignation; and arrangements are in progress for appointing a successor.

As we are anxious to preserve every record which the invalid has left:, of his own state of mind when contemplating his approaching departure, we insert the following, although it is very similar to some that have preceded it.

‘Madeira, 9tk December 1839. ‘My dear Sir, — .... On the whole, you observe tie disease has made very decided progress: at present it does not seem in very virulent action; l)ut all mj medical friends have assured me, that, with so small a part of only one lung working, the slightest cold caught, or the least accession of febrile action, may Tery possibly terminate life. And, although nothmg of the sort should occur — although it should even pro ceed at the gentlest rate that can be, still the day is evidently, by many tokens, not far distant, when I must put off this tabernacle. To contemplate this, how solemn! how much more solemn to find the difficulty which the mind has in contemplating it as a reality! Strange as it may seem, I fear I must confess,, that there is less vivid realization of my dying state now, than there was in me two years ago, when the thought of being mortally diseased was, compara*- lively, fresh and new. Yet I do trust there is, amid much instability and perversity of mind, something more of a sustained attempt to dwell, fiducially, on the work of Him “who, through death, destroyed him that had the power of death.” But all that I have of this 1 painfully feel to be far far short of what it ought to be; I feel as if there were no affection in my religion; I wonder, day by day, that I am not more stirred with thoughts and circumstances so moving; and, although I bless God that I have been preserved from vehement alarms and despairing thoughts — so much so, indeed, that Renton said he believed my equable temperament had been the means of lengthening out my days, — yet I am bitterly conscious with what truth this reproach might be taken up against me, — Job iv. 4, 5.

‘This great increase of disease has, I lament to say, entirely prevented me from rendering myself useful (since about June) in the ways I formerly mentioned, or in others I had thought of. .... And partly from physical inability to speak continuously; partly, also, from a sad barrenness of heart, which still more de» cidedlj nnfitted me for the datj, I have done nothing among my “companions in tribulation.” To one, indeed, a most interesting young fnater-Jumilieu among the residents, I had the privilege of speaking a few words of comfort on the 27th September, but the next day I was myself laid up with a couple of blisters; and on the SOth she fell asleep, I trust in Jesus. This utter abandonment of any work that can be useful to others I feel as a sore trial, but I hare no doubt it was greatly needed; for I have seen much reason to fear, that here, as at home, I was making outward usefulness a means of escaping firom God, and had not learned the art of being willing to be absolutely nothing. O let your cry and prayer ascend, that this, and every grace proper to a suffering state, may be given me, as well as a quiet dismissal, and an abundant entrance. * Hev. Jame9 €Hbton*

About this time Mr Halley seems to have thought his course was drawing near a close. His disease had begun to exhibit some new symptoms which he thought were the harbingers of death. He had no expectatioa then of surviving the winter. In the conclusion of the preceding letter, speaking of the several items of expenditure for which it was necessary to make provision, he enumerates among them ’ those charges connected with the narrow house.’ Again, in reference to the amount of remittance required, he says, ‘It is considerably expensive (I do not know the exact sum) to get a burying-place from these sons of Heth.’ In a similar strain, three days later, another change of residence is noted in the joumaL

‘Thmday, 12th I>to€mbar.

Lefb Dr Kalley’s, and entered again our little house in the Socorro. Mo probably my next migratioii will be to a narrower house still. The Lord prepare XQe for awaking with him. Meantime, my soul would seek to magnify him for his long-suffering and for-Learance, his preserving and sustaining mercy, the means of grace he gives. me, and this hope, though faint and obscured by unbelief, of glory. The Lord perfect that which concemeth me, and make our residence here, whether long or short, a time of peculiar instruction, visitation, and refreshing, to my dear sister.’

This is the conclusion of the Madeira journal; and, so far as we know, the last secret record of his experience written by his own hand. Besides his increasing weakness, he was about this time disabled by a suppuration in the thumb of the right hand. From the middle of December 1839 to the beginning of June 1 840, he was unable to write. This necessarily leaves a blank in his history; for we do not possess other materials from which to fill it up. This, however, is not much to be regretted; for there really was little variety in his mode of life, except that now he could do more, and now less, according as the symptoms of his disease were lightened or aggravated. During this winter he was weaker than he had been at any period of his residence in Madeira. If we had been enabled to present the history of that, as of the preceding period, in his own letters and journals, it might have been equally instructive; but when these materials are wanting, we think it neither necessary nor expedient to fill up the narrative from Other sources. These five months were spent as others had been. As sickness increased, the field was narrowed; but the character of the work and the good- will of the labourer continued the same. Fewer opportunities

289 XBXOm OF JAKES HALLEf.

of doing good were afforded to the invalid; but ire continued to do good as he had opportunity. The talents once intrusted to him, had, by the SoYereign Disposer, been gradually resumed, till one only was left, but he did not bury that talent in the earth: he continued to trade’ with it, that he might gain the true riches’ for himself and all the needy near him.

Having, by the good hand of God upon him, survired another winter, he began again to entertain the thought of returning home. The proposal was weighed with all his characteristic coolness of deliberation. We fortunately possess a record of his decision, and the grounds of it, in the shape of a letter to his &theff. It is the first afiter the long interval in his correspour dence caused by the ailment in his hand, and the last written from Madeira.

‘Soco&RO, Madeira, Isi June 1840.

* My dear Father, — You will be both surprised and

pleased to see ray handwriting once more Dr

Renton examined me this day week: says the right lung (which formerly was hardened up) is now much wasted away, but that the disease has not made very rapid progress in the leflt: he thinks there is still about one-third of it working. But, as this is only the sixth part of a pair of lungs, you will not wonder that I am very short-winded. The only unpleasant symptoms I have had of late, are perspirations (which weaken me much), and, almost daily, severe gripings in the bowels. The perspirations, however, are not constant, and the gripings are not accompanied by diarrhoea. My pulse is always above 100, but seldom feverish.

‘The reason of my getting Dr Renton to examine me is one which you will perhaps think strange. It was to learn whether he thought I had lung enough

REASONS l^OR RBTURMIKO. 28?

Remaining to take me to Britain, and whetlieip I could to sea with a fair chance of reaching our own island in life. His answer was, that, if I had other good reasons for undertaking a Yoyage home, he thought there was nothing in the state of my lungs which rendered it unlikely that I should he able to accomplish it. The other reasons which have weighed with me (since I found myself so wonderfully preserved till the good weather; for, in winter, I did not think it latcful to dream of such a thing) I shall now mention. Some are not very strong of themselves; hut they have all their weight when taken together.

^(1.) Patrick must have felt the want of Janet much, for she used to learn every thing vnth him; and I am very loath to deprive him of her longer, especially in such hopeless work as that of nursing me. (2.) If I remain here, and the hot weather does not give me diarrhoea, it seems not very unlikely, 80 far as my lungs are concerned, that I may live through the warm months, hut in so feeble a state, that the first change of weather in October or November would be apt to take me off. In such a case, Janet could do nothing but go home in winter; which, I think, after three summers here, would be veiy dangerous for her health; and I do not think it light to endanger a good life, in trying to prolong a bad one. It is fair to say, that Janet does not think this a good reason, but it is good notwithstanding. (3.) It would be a pleasure to you to see us again in the flesh; although, no doubt, this would be much mixed with pain. (4.) Possibly, I might get more spiritual benefit from conversing, if I were once home,

with such a dear and intimate friend as than

I could obtain from any one here. (5.) I reckon it a very strong reason that I really feel unable to ask the generous friends who support ms, to provide us th funds to meet probable events (6.) By

288 MBMOnt OF JAMBS BALLET.

ooming home, we incur a definite expense.... Bgrstajing here, we commence another indefinite score. I have calculated the probahle expense, if I hai on in life till the 20th October, and find it is between £30 and £40 more than what will be needed to bring us home. This reason is aggravated by the fact, that I cannot now render myself of any use. The onlj reason opposed to these, is, that I might live a shoit time longer here than in Scotland; but, as I am now totally shut out from all usefulness, I think the simple love of life ought not to overbalance such poweiful reasons on the other side.

* So then, I mean, God willing, to attempt going home. But you must not be too sanguine in expecting us, there is so much between the cup and the lip. These gripings may turn to diarrhoea, or my disease may take some sudden bad turn, and stop us here; or, in spite of Dr Renton s hopes, it may please die Lord to remove me on ship-board; or I may be so ill when we get into the channel, as only to be able to land somewhere, and go to bed. So don’t expect us too confidently.

But our present purpose (if the Lord will) is to sail for London in the “Vernon,” which is expected to leave this between the 20th and the end of June. Thus we are likely to catch all letters by the June packet; and this epistle will prevent you from wridng by the July one. ....

‘Miss Crawford is just dying — after a very rapid decline, in great peace and joy. Remember us to all friends, .... Your very affectionate son,

j. h;

We are incliued to set a very high value on this letter. It is full of instruction. It exhibits the scholar and the Christian united. The minuteness and logical precision of the reasoning may appear, in the circumstances, to be carried to an extreme; but that does not prove it to be wrong, it onlj indicates that it is rare. In itself and in any circumstances, it were an instructire example of method and accuracy in weighing the reasons on which a judgment is formed; but it is the Christianity of the letter that gives the charm to its logic. The affected coolness of a sceptic in the prospect of death, is repulsive to the observer. Not being natural, it does not sit easy; being put on with a view to reputation, it is generally overdone. It wants the peculiar charm of the coolness displayed here. In going about to set his house in order there is the most perfect calmness; but it is not the desperate determination of pride, nor the iruit of stoical indifference. It is a calmness chastened, not ruffled, by the fear of God; sweetened and hallowed by the hope of the Gospel.

Soon after the date of this letter he became much worse. For several weeks he was confined to bed. During the greater part of June he was in such a state that he could not have been removed. The hope of being able to return had almost failed. A slight improvement, however, took place a few days before the vessel sailed; and when the time came, he determined to adhere to his original purpose. Although he was very weak, and his lungs in such a state that the greatest danger was to be apprehended from the &tigue of the voyage, having, after full deUberation, definitely made up his mind, he resolutely carried his design into effect. On the 30th of June he was safely conveyed on board, and the packet sailed. Nothing remarkable occurred during the voyage. Beyond the inconvenience of close confinement, the invalid experienced no bad effects from exposure on the sea. He maintained his usual cheerfulness, generallj sat at table in the cabin, and conyersed freely with the passengers and crew. On this step of his life’s journey, as on all others, he felt that goodness and mercy fdlowed him. Kept by the faithful Creator, on whom he had cast his care, he was presenred from the dangers of the deep and set down safe upon his natire land again. The vessel arrived in the Thames on the 19th, and the passengers landed at London on the morning of the 20th of July. Feeling his strength increased rather than diminished, Mr Halley remained in London from Monday till Thursday, and even paid visits to some companions in trouble, whose friendr ship he had acquired in Madeira. On Thursday he was conveyed by Railway to Liverpool, where he jested with a friend till the Monday following. On that day he sailed in one of the Clyde steamers, and arrived in Glasgow on Tuesday the 28th of July, afrer an absence of two years and nine months.

‘The works of the Lord are great, nought out of all them that have pleasure therein.’ — Psalm cxi. 2. God’s works are all great, however diminutive the subject on which they are performed; his path is always right, though his footsteps be ofn in the deep; his purposes are wise, though they may be past finding out. We have just been tracing the works of the Lord in the life of one of his servants. Li the chapter of the history which we have just finished, the Lord’s way seems to lie in the deep. One who had received many gifts, and whose gifrs were cultivated to the utmost, and whose powers, natural and acquired, were solemnly consecrated to the service of God in the Gospel of his Son, is suddenly checked in his course. A deadly disease has touched him, wither-^ ing the beauty of youth — undermining the strength of manhood. When apparently near the period of his days, the prospect of a respite- ven the hope of a restoration, is providentially opened up. By being transported to a more genial clime, the progress of his disease is checked, and several years added to his life. But his strength is not restored. He is allowed to linger on a few sickly years, but not allowed to be put in trust with the Gospel. He is allowed to Kve a while, but not to begin that work for which chiefly he desired to live. After this respite of nearly three years, he is restored to the place of his birth — to die. Here we have more to do thaji write or read the his* tory. This is the work of the Lord; but it is not enough to ’ remember’ that work, it must be ’ sought out, Nor will the search be long or difficult. If the wisdom of that ‘way’ do not lie on the surface, neither is it deeply hid. If this work of the Lord do not force itself upon the observation of the careless passer-by, neither will it long elude the search of those *’ that have pleasure therein.’ - The reader of the preceding pages must have observed, that the desire which was uppermost in the mind of the exile while he sojourned in a strange land, was, that he might be allowed to preach the Gospel of the grace of God. His heart was full of this, and it was continually bursting out. It broke out in con-Tersation with friends near, and in letters to friends far away. It broke out, too, in unwearied prayer to God. “What then? Did God turn away that cry? He might have turned it away. Without giving any account of his doings, he may deny any request of his

292 MEMOIR or JAMES HAIXEY.

servants, and in his own time make it desar that the Judge of all the earth did right. Or, he may gnuit substantially the request, in a time, and waj, and manner, which we in the bodj can nerer find out In either case it is ours to be still and know that he is God.’ But, in the present instance, it has pleased God to give an answer to that prayer, in a f<»m which makes it evident that the answer has beea given. God is not wont to leave without work and hire, those who long to labour in his vineyard. Mr Halley had been filled with that desire, and enabled to say, Here am I; send me, God accepted his offer, and sent him. Work was appointed him to do, and souls given him for his hire.

We have already laid before the reader a pretty full history of the means employed; the effects cannot be recorded in these pages; they will not be all known till the day’ reveal them. Yet some of the blessed effects of Mr Halley ’s labours are known. Enough is known to make manifest the design of Grod in sending him to Madeira, and preserving him there. His own conceptions of usefulness in the Church were associated with the work of a parish minister in Scotland; but that was not the place allotted him in die design of God. The King of Zion had chosen vessels in a far off isle of the sea, and a chosen instrument to employ in bringing them to himself. This is explanation enough of the whole mystery. The sovereign Lord might have appointed his servant a long life of labour in the Church at home, with two or three only as his crown of rejoicing — one here and there, gleaned from the generation he had seen passing by. The appointment was different, but not lee “wise, and not less kind. The scene of labour was in a strange land; but the strangers help was present there. The labourer was sickly; but the Holj Spirit makes his own word powerful, though it be spoken by trembling lips. The time was short; but in it the work was done, and the servant was the sooner reliered from toil — the sooner admitted to the joy of his Lord.

A considerable number of instances have come to our knowledge, in which Mr Halley’s labours in Madeira have been the blessed means of converting sinners, and of building up believers in their holy laith. Although in some of these cases the facts have been distinctly stated to us by the most competent witnesses — the relatives of the parties concerned — we do not feel at liberty to give the circumstances here in detail. Were we to attempt a narrative, we would be obliged, from various prudential reasons, to conceal so many of the features of it, that it would be no narrative at all. We shall content ourselves with bearing testimony to the fact, that there were such fruits of his ministry granted to him. In his own letters and journals there are some allusions to particular persons, which indicate his hope that a blessing from on high had rested upon his instructions. In one instance at least we find a distinct statement by himself that he had seen the work prospering in his hand to the saving of a soul. In one of his letters, speaking of two persons to whom he had often commended the word of eternal life, he says, — ‘One of them, I fondly trust, may have cause to bless my memory for ever.’ The reader of his letters will not expect from him much of confident assertion regarding the success of his labours. He was not easily satisfied. The inoei distinguishing habit of his mind was, resolutely to withhold his judgment until he found a suffiden* roason on which it might rest. Reference is also made, in his own letters, to a young married lady among the residents whom he statedly instructed. It is understood that she was converted to Christ through the word spoken by him. She died before he left the island. Another of these cases on which we found the statement that Mr Halley s teaching was blessed, was that of a medical gentleman from Edinburgh, who had also come to the island as an invalid. Finding himself becoming worse, he returned. At the time he left there was no prospect that Mr Halley would ever be able to be removed. When he had, with great difficulty, reached home, he spoke of it as a mark of distinguishing mercy to himself, that he should have been brought home to die in the midst of his friends, while the instructor who had taught him the hopes of the Gospel, was left to close his days in a land of strangers. Another was a farmer from an agricultural district in the west of Scotland, who, like his instructor, after trying the climate of Madeira in vain as the means of restoring his health, was enabled to return in life. On his deathbed, we have been informed, he ccm tinned to speak with gratitude of Mr Halley, as the messenger who had spoken to him the word of life. These cases, even though noted in such general terms, may suffice to show what is meant when we say that this servant of the Lord was not sent to Madeira in vain; To show how widely the influence of his instructions may have spread from that centre to which so many invalids congregate,

TESTIMONY FOR THE TRUTH-^CONSISTENT LIFE. 295

and to show, at the same time, how Tery difficult it is to obtain detailed information .regarding it, we may mention the following fact: — While these pages are passing through the press, inquiry has been made for this volume in the office of the publisher by some friend, on behalf of a gentleman in the south of England, who speaks of Mr Halley as his spiritual father.’ This person is not known to the editors even by name.

But besides the instances of special good to individuals, whatever their number, Mr Halley was hon» oiired to do a great work in Madeira, by his bold testimony for the truth, and the practical rebuke of ungodliness which he administered in a consistent conduct. In the opinion of a very competent judge, who spent a winter on the island — the last winter of Mr Halley’s residence on it — the way in which he was enabled most extensively to serve the Lord there was, by diffusing the savour of a consistently religious life in a region pervaded by the spirit of worldliness. In this way, his learning — which we are apt to think was lost, after it had been acquired with so much labour — even his leamiug was made the direct instrument in advancing the kingdom of Christ. In a society where men of rank, and wealth, and learning from diffisrent parts of England were congregated, the thorough respect which his talents commanded, gained admission for his instruction and rebuke to circles from which they would otherwise have been wholly excluded. His learning, with all its acuteness, could make no wound on a hard heart; yet it was not useless there. It performed the part of pioneer in clearing the obstacles away, and giving the sword of the

2y6 MEMOIR OF JAMES HALLBY.

Spirit an access to its object. For example, religion a books were read with aviditj on his recommendation, by persons who would have paid no attention to the judgment of a less gifted mind.

On the whole, looking to Mr Hallej’s miauon to Madeira in all its bearings as a work of the Lord, it does not require much searching to discover in it both wisdom and love. That was not the field which lie would have selected — that was not the precise station in his Master s service to which his desires and prayers had tended; but surely He who chose for him the lot of his inheritance as a son, had the best right to choose the sphere of his labours as a servant. He who had appointed him a mansion in the Father’s house on high, had the best right to appoint the bounds of his habitation on earth. Christ, who redeemed him, gave him a work to do, and enabled him to do it. If the work was sooner done, the workman was sooner admitted into rest. The Master disposed to the best advantage of his servant’s taloits. The servant knows that now. It is good if we have a desire to serve Christ; but we must leave the disposal of ourselves and our services ail to Him. Let ministers and candidates fot: the ministry be bent on showing forth the Redeemer’s glory, but not wedded to their own method and their own means. Their times ’ and places are in the Lord’s hands; let them lie there. In asking for work, and offering their services, why should they limit the Holy One?