to be found, where the individual, who learned the doctrine of the Trinity from the works of nature? I cannot suppose it would ever have suggested itself to a single mind, had it not been communicated, probably among the earliest revelations of God.

My utter despair of deriving any solid benefit from these speculations, must plead my excuse for not occupying my attention in any attempt to investigate the merits of the system more closely; and I am truly concerned to hear that Mr. B. designs to write upon the subject. I am afraid it will have no other effect than to strengthen existing prejudices against evangelical doctrine.

I am, dear Sir, with much esteem,

Yours most respectfully,

ROBERT HALL.

LXIX.

TO THE REV.

IN REPLY TO A REQUEST TO WRITE A REVIEW.

My dear Friend,

Leicester, Nov. 16, 1823.

You have put me on a most irksome task; and were the request to come from almost any other quarter, I should refuse to comply, without a moment's hesitation. I find it difficult to deny you any thing; but, really, you could scarcely have proposed any thing to me more disagreeable. I think very highly of your son's publication; so that

my objections arise, in no degree, from that quarter. But, in the first place, I am far from being satisfied of the propriety of suffering the sentiments of private friendship to prevail in a review. A reviewer professes to be a literary judge; and his sentence ought to be as unbiassed as that of any magistrate whatever. But what should we think of a judge, who permitted himself to be tampered with by either party concerned, with a view to procure a favourable decision? In the exercise of his censorial office, a reviewer ought to have neither friends nor enemies. It is an adherence to this maxim which can alone secure the dignified impartiality of criticism, or entitle it to the smallest degree of credit. A work like your son's does not need artificial support; and one of an opposite description does not deserve it. Your son should rest calmly on his own merits, with a becoming confidence that an enlightened public will not fail to do him justice. There was never a period in my life when I would have stooped to solicit a review. I speak on the supposition of the application originating with him.

In the next place, when it is known I have complied in this instance, I shall be harassed with innumerable applications. in particular,

will have the justest reason to complain: for he has, at different times, most vehemently importuned me to review particular works, which I have steadily refused; and the only method I have found, to shield myself from his importunities, has

been to renounce reviewing altogether. I think it probable he would not admit my review; I am sure he ought not, for the reasons I have assigned, and I have laid him under no such obligation as to induce him to depart from the straight-forward path. I do not suppose I could bring myself to speak higher of the work than an impartial reader would do; and what advantage, then, could be derived from my reviewing it? But supposing I did, where would be the justice to the public? You perceive, my dear friend, the difficulties which surround me, and the reasons why, in my humble opinion, the interference of friendship should not be allowed in such cases.

I write altogether in the dark. You have not informed me in what Review you would wish me to write; nor do I know whether it has been

reviewed already. I am not at all in the habit of reading either the Eclectic, or any other Review indeed, I wish the whole tribe could be put an end to.

LXX.

TO MR. J. E. RYLAND. (EXTRACT.)

Leicester, 1824.

I cannot write but upon some specified

subject; and that subject must be something which suggests itself spontaneously to my thoughts. I

feel an insuperable repugnance to the bending of my mind to the suggestion of others: it must be free as air, or I cannot move to any purpose: whatever I write, must originate entirely with myself. Though I have no objection to gaining money, yet my love of it is not sufficiently strong for it to have any sensible influence in directing my literary exertions. There are several subjects which I have revolved in my mind, to which I feel a decided preference; and if I present myself to the public at all, it must be in the discussion of these. As to Pascal, few admire him more than myself: but, in writing an introduction, I should feel myself quite out at sea; I should float, without any determinate direction; my mind would have no determinate object; and, not having a distinct idea of what I wished to do, I should do nothing to any purpose. For elegant and specious declamation, I have no sort of talent. I must have a brief; I must have something like a fixed thesis, some proposition I wish to establish or illustrate, or I feel perfectly cold and indifferent. For my part, I let every man pursue his own plans: how it is that I am doomed to be the perpetual object of advice, admonition, expostulation, &c. &c., as a writer, I know not. I am sure it does not arise from any proofs I have given of superior docility. I know myself so well, as to be distinctly aware that importunities of this kind have always the effect of indisposing me to their object. I should have written more had I been urged less; and when the

public cease to dictate to me, I shall feel myself

The melancholy intelligence of the death of dear Mr. Langdon has deeply affected me: and most happy should I deem myself, were it in my power to administer effectual consolation under such a stroke. I refrained from addressing you immediately, waiting for the first transports of grief to subside; because I well know, that premature attempts to console only irritate the sorrows they are meant to heal. Let me indulge the hope, that by this time reason and religion are come to your aid, and that you are prepared to say with the greatest and most illustrious of sufferers, "Even so, Father; for so it seemeth good in thy sight."

The remarkable combination of the most lovely qualities with the most fervent piety, which distinguished the character of our dear friend, while they enhance the sense of your loss, will, I hope, mitigate its bitterness in another view, by assuring you, that "great is his reward in heaven." Death to him is, undoubtedly, exceeding great gain;" nor would you, in your best moments, wish to

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