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the duty of "Systematic Benevolence," that has ever been given to the public, was a Report on that subject, originally prepared by him for the Synod of New York and New Jersey, and afterwards published with a valuable appendix. It is clear, scriptural and comprehensive, embracing, indeed-multum in parvo, as it is the substance of nearly all that has been wisely written on the subject. At an early date in his public life, he commenced, and continued for a time, carefully husbanding his moments of leisure for the purpose, and trenching often upon the hours that should have been given to sleep, an exegetical work of a serial character, called the "Daily Verse Expositor." While he was a good general scholar, striving ever to keep abreast with the age, he specially excelled in biblical studies. He loved and magnified God's word; and delighted in whatever tended to shed light on its pages. The work just referred to was, for the purpose it had in view, that of condensed, simple, yet accurate annotation, admirably executed. To Biblical Archæology, he gave much attention. With the geography of the Holy Land, especially, he was uncommonly familiar. You might have suspected this direction of his studies, from a glance at the pictures suspended upon the walls of his dwelling. There is one there still, hanging by his silent, yet speaking portrait, a view of Jerusalem, which, though correct enough in the estimation of most intelligent persons, was to his apprehension quite faulty. "That is a good view," said a missionary from Palestine to him once. "No!" he promptly replied, "it is not a good one;" and he soon convinced the man who had been favored, above himself, with a personal observation of the original, that the picture was inaccurate. When Dr. Robinson was about to publish that invaluable work, his "Biblical Researches," so deeply interested was Dr. Hall in it, and so eager to possess himself of its treasures, that he actually begged of the author the privilege of perusing the sheets, as they successively issued from the press. I have been recently assured by Dr. Robinson, that he found no other man in America so deeply interested in the geography of Palestine, or so well acquainted with it. He not only prepared an appropriate notice of the "Biblical Researches," for one of our leading religious papers, but wrote, also, an extended and able review of it, for the "Biblical Repository."

If we pass from his public relations and labors to the inner *circle of his excellences, to his private christian virtues, his social and domestic affections and habitudes, we find his character still one harmonious whole. He was in all things eminently conscientious-careful to encroach upon no man's rights, to render unto all their dues, and, above all, to "render unto God the things that are God's." Especially remarkable was his strictness in keeping holy the Sabbath. Neither by labor, by recreation, nor by travel, under whatever urgency of temptation, would he desecrate the blessed day of God. After a week's toil in a narrow room in the crowded city, he would resolutely decline walking in his garden on that day, however solicited by the early flowers,

the Spring birds, and the balmy air. He would avoid the very appearance of evil; he would not even seem to saunter away the holy hours. On his return from his tour in Europe, the ship that bore him arrived at the wharf, in this city, on Sabbath morning. His family were at Newark; a little more than half an hour's ride in the cars would have taken him there. His affectionate heart yearned to greet them; but it was the Lord's Day, and his eye was still "single." So he tarried in the city until Monday, "and rested the Sabbath day, according to the commandment." How he delighted in congenial society; how affectionate, and courteous, and winning were all his ways there; what a charm his intelligent, sprightly, and yet christian-like conversation imparted to the social circle; there are many present who need not be told. How careful he was to injure no man's feelings; how prompt to heal a wound which had been undesignedly made; how ready he was to enter on the most spiritual themes, and with what unction he would dilate on them, opening to you the very portals of his heart; how forward he was to rejoice with those that rejoice, and to weep with those that weep; how faithful he was in reproof, and how kind withal; what love for souls possessed him, and with what holy earnestness and perseverance he would labor, often, to lead individuals to the Saviour; on these, and other like traits, I may not enlarge. According to his limited means--yea, and beyond them frequently-he was a liberal man. Many of the sons and daughters of poverty rise up and call him blessed. Especially did he take pleasure, remembering his own early embarrassments, in aiding worthy but indigent students for the ministry. "The assistance he gave me," says one, now preaching the Gospel, "in my efforts to gain an education, was most substantial, and was always bestowed with a cheerfulness and delicacy that made the gift doubly welcome, and constituted him a model giver."

It is scarcely fitting, that I should enter the sanctuary of his domestic affections. Yet it is impossible to do justice to his character without adverting briefly to the depth of his tenderness, and the varied forms of his fidelity there. Home was a charmed word to him. There, next to the throne of grace, was his heart's dearest refuge and resting-place. How, in his journeyings-especially in his European tour-did his soul often pine for it; how solitary did he feel himself! Amid the attractions of London, he writes in his journal: "Felt sad-I greatly need sympathy. I have been so long accustomed to pour out my heart into the ear of listening affection, and to have reciprocal expression of thought and interest, that without it, pleasure is no pleasure to me." He recognises, again, with a gush of fatherly feeling, the recurring birthday of one of his children. He calls them all to mind. I looked at their pictures," he writes, "till my heart almost broke." He receives letters from home, and speaks of making haste to get alone that he might "read, and weep, and give thanks, and pray." Amid rural scenes of surpassing ng loveliness, he says of his dear ones: "I longed, first for one, then for another, for all of them to be with me." He is among the mountains of Scotland, and by associations characteristically delicate and touching, his thoughts are again sent homeward. "My attention," he says, "was arrested by a tree, which frequently occurred, growing over the precipices, and loaded with clusters of red berries, in every respect like the mountain ash, except that the head of the tree is not so trim and graceful as that is. I asked one of the young gentlemen in company, 'What tree is that?" The Rowan tree. Oh, how there rushed to my heart a tide of emotions! 'The Rowan Tree' is the title of a song which my dear girls sing, full of sweet thoughts of home and home scenes; and the tune is touchingly plaintive. Those thoughts-that tune-those scenes of hame and infancy,' of 'bairnies' and their 'mither dear,' came back to me here in the highland birthplace of the poetry and the music, and I melted under their power. I sought a place to weep, while I sat on a stone and sang a verse, holding in my hands a branch with its scarlet berries." But I may not enlarge in this direction. I have already, perhaps, been tempted too far. Yet why should I not show you, as it was, the heart of our dear brother? I will add only, that in all these domestic relations and sympathies, his eye was "single." He had consecrated his children to God, and for him he sought to train them. He longed, with unutterable desire, to see them all not only Christians, but eminent Christians. In a letter to one of his sons, after a vivid sketch of the peculiarities of the age, a passage follows, which may be taken as a specimen of his parental advices and appeals: "You will soon come, if your life is spared, upon the stage, right in the forenoon of a day of action, such as the world never saw. I would fain impress you with the idea, that you are to live in an uncommon era; and that you owe it to your own character, to God, and to the interests of human nature, to be more, and do more, than if you had lived at another time.

'On the world's wide field of battle,

In the bivouac of life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle-
Be a hero in the strife.""

A blessed legacy to the children, are the counsels and the example of such a father!

Though Dr. Hall's physical habit was, through most of his public life, delicate rather than robust, yet he was ordinarily able to accomplish a great amount of labor. For several years preceding his death, however, there was a very manifest decline of his health. In connection, probably, with derangements of the digestive economy, with which he had long been afflicted, he became subject to severe attacks of inflammatory rheumatism. So seriously was he affected, that the mental efforts which had ordinarily been both easy and delightful, became at times a task and a weariness. It grieved him to find his vigor at all diminished. The thought of being, in any respect, an unprofitable servant in the vineyard of his Master, was ever painful to him. He sought to avoid, or to repair deficiences, by extra exertion. The pleasure of social intercourse, which he relished so keenly, he would often readily sacrifice, that he might accomplish seasonably some official duty. Often when he returned from his office at night, exhausted in body and spirit, he would turn from those quiet enjoyments of the domestic circle, which had ever such attraction for him, to make up, at his writing desk, what he regarded as an imperfect day's labor; at the same time mourning that he had so little strength to devote to what he was wont to call his "blessed work." He sought, at times, by temporary rest, to re-invigorate his frame; but seasons of relaxation it was difficult to secure, under the constant pressure of business at the office. Loving his work as he did, unwilling as he was to impose additional burdens upon his colleagues, he was ever reluctant to be absent. When obliged to be away, the sight of a number of the "Home Missionary" would be to him as the sound of the trumpet to the war-horse. Too soon for his health, he would hasten back again.

Near the close of the year 1851, it occurred to some of his friends, and the thought came at length to be favorably entertained by himself, that a longer period of absence-a voyage across the ocean, and a tour of months, with entire freedom from his ordinary cares and labors-would be the most hopeful means of restoration. Dr. Robinson was about to sail for Palestine, with the design of further prosecuting his researches there, and he invited Dr. Hall to become his fellow traveller. Most delightul to him would have been the proposed tour

"As far as to the sepulchre of Christ."

It would have been the realization of some of his fondest dreams. Only by a great struggle could he relinquish the thought of it. But considerations connected with his official relations interposed, and he bowed to the will of Providence. "I have given it up," he said to a friend, "and I feel better." It was another of his sacrifices to his single purpose. The derangement of his health still continuing, however, that European tour was the following year determined on, to some incidents of which I have already alluded. The design was facilitated by the praiseworthy generosity of certain friends both of the enfeebled Secretary and of the Society, and by his colleagues cheerfully assuming whatever additional duties his absence might impose upon them.

He sailed for Havre, July 10, 1852. From that city he crossed the channel to England; and after a brief stay in London, went to Liverpool, and thence northward, through the beautiful lake country, to the Highlands of Scotland. Returning by way of Edinburgh to London, he visited some of the most interesting localities in the neighborhood of that city, and then made his way to Paris. From Paris, he passed, by way of Germany, to Switzerland, among whose Alpine wonders he made extensive excursions. In one of the mountain passes, the Tête Noire, he narrowly escaped with his life. The mule on which he rode,

making a false step, rolled from the path with him, into the rocky bed of a river below. It was marvellous that the effect of the fall was only a few bruises and a momentary stunning. It was of God's goodness; that he might die among his kindred, and that religion might be honored by his last utterances. By way of Marseilles, and other cities on the Mediterranean, he visited Rome. After spending a short time there, he returned through France to England, and thence sailed for home; the whole period of his absence from the country having been less than five months.

The developments of his character during this tour, as his journal and letters present them, were of the most striking kind. While the restoration of his health was his main object, he diligently availed himself of his many opportunities for observation and improvement. He had a highly cultivated taste for the fine arts; and great was his delight in exploring the galleries of Europe. Yet he passed through them as a discriminating and independent critic; never praising things, as his notes evince, because others had praised them; but venturing to stand alone, if he must, in his judgment of the productions even of a Rubens or a Raphael. He was especially a lover of the beautiful and sublime in nature; and in this respect his tour afforded him the most exquisite enjoyment. Amid the enchanting scenery of the West of England in the vale of Keswick, at Rydal Mount, at Windermeer, and the neighboring lakes; among the Highlands of Scotland; at Windsor, at Blenheim; at a thousand points in the Swiss Oberland, language seemed inadequate to utter his emotions. "Such combination," he writes, in the West of England, "of grandeur of outline and color in the close-shutting mountains, and of beauty in the lakes and clean, lawn-like meadows, I never saw before." "Magnificent and inexpressible!" he exclaims, at the rimsel Pass of the Alps. "The half was never told me, nor can it be communicated in words." We are chiefly interested, however, in the manifestations of his piety. Abundantly evident is it, that wherever he journeyed, whatever he beheld and enjoyed, whether the finest and noblest works of art, or the loveliest and most majestic natural scenery, his eye was still "single," his heart rose above and through all to God his portion. He writes from the ship in which he sailed to Europe, as it floats out of the harbor: "I am well supplied with tracts, and hope to-morrow to begin my mission in a small way." He meets a beggar in Scotland, and the entry in his journal is, "Talked to him about his soul." At Stratford-upon-Avon, he writes, "The great enemy has this day sorely buffetted me, so that my joy has been turned into mourning. I go to my bed looking to Jesus-or towards him, for Oh, I do not perceive his smiling face. Return, O Holy Dove, return." He visits Blenheim, the famous country-seat bestowed by Queen Anne on the first Duke of Marlborough, and after a most graphic account of it, adds: "As I wandered through these grounds, and opened

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