that, under such circumstances, he would ever have consented to it; and it is possible, that his strong and solemn prohibition might have deterred his daughter from so criminal an union. Samuel observed bitterly of this fatal connexion: "I am sure I may well say of that marriage, it will not, cannot come to good." And he proposed that Kezia should live with him, in the hope that it might save her from "discontent perhaps, or from a worse passion." But, like most of her family, this injured girl possessed a lofty spirit. She subdued her resentment, and submitted with so much apparent resignation to the wrong which she had received, that she accompanied the foul hypocrite and his wife, to his curacy. But it consumed her by the slow operation of a settled grief. Charles thus describes her wel come release in a letter to John; "Yesterday morning sister Kezzy died in the Lord Jesus. He finished his work, and cut it short in mercy. Full of thankfulness, resignation and love, without pain or trouble, she commended her spirit into the hands of Jesus, and fell asleep." "with Till this time, John Wesley believed, that Mr. Hall was, out all question, filled with faith, and the love of God, so that, in all England," he said, "he knew not his fellow." He thought him a pattern of lowliness, meekness, seriousness, and continual advertence to the presence of God, and, above all, of self-denial in every kind, and of suffering all things with joyfulness. But now," he says, "there was a worm at the root of the gourd." For about two years after his marriage there was no apparent change in his conduct; his wife then began to receive her proper punishment from the caprice and asperity of his temper. After a while he seemed to recover his self-command, but soon again he betrayed a hasty and contemptuous disposition; from having been the humble and devoted disciple of the Wesleys, he contracted gradually a dislike toward them, and at length broke off all intercourse with them, public or private, because they would not, in conformity to his advice, renounce their connexion with the Church of England. He had now his own followers, whom he taught first to disregard the ordinances of religion, then to despise them, and speak of them with contempt. He began to teach that there was 66 no resurrection of the body, no general judgment, no Hell, no worm that never dieth, no fire that never shall be quenched." His conduct was now conformable to his principles, if, indeed, the principles had not grown out of a determined propensity for vice and profligacy. Wesley addressed an expostulatory letter to him, in which he recapitulated, step by step, his progress in degradation. After stating to him certain facts, which proved the licentiousness of his life, he concluded thus: " And now you know not that you have done any thing amiss! You can eat, and drink, and be merry! You are every day engaged with variety of company, and frequent the coffee-houses! Alas, my brother, what is this! How are you above measure hardened by the deceitfulness of sin! Do you remember the story of Santon Barsisa? I pray God your last end may not be like his! Oh how have you grieved the Spirit of God! Return to him with weeping, fasting, and mourning! You are in the very belly of Hell, only the pit hath not yet shut its mouth upon you. Arise, thou sleeper, and call upon thy God! Per haps He may yet be found. Because He yet bears with me, I cannot despair for you. But you have not a moment to lose. May God this instant strike you to the heart, that you may feel His wrath abiding on you, and have no rest in your bones by reason of your sin, till all your iniquities are done away." Soon after he had written this letter, which was done more for the purpose of delivering his own soul, as he says, than with any reasonable hope of impressing a man so far gone in depravity, Wesley, in the course of his travelling, came to Mr. Hall's house at Salisbury, and was let in, though orders had been given that he should not be admitted. Hall left the room as soon as he entered, sent a message to him that he should quit the house, and presently turned his wife out of doors also. Having now thrown off all restraint and all regard for decency, he publicly and privately recommended polygamy as conformable to nature, preached in its defence, and practised as he preached. Soon he laid aside all pretensions to religion, professed himself an infidel, and led for many years the life of an adventurer and a profligate, at home and abroad; acting sometimes as a physician, sometimes as a priest, and assuming any character according to the humour or the convenience of the day. Wesley thought that this unhappy man would never have thus wholly abandoned himself to these flagitious propensities, if the Moravians had not withdrawn him from his influence, and therefore he judged them to be accountable for his perdition. He seems to have felt no misgiving that he himself might have been the cause; that Hall might have continued to walk uprightly if he had kept the common path; and that nothing could he more dangerous to a vain and headstrong man of a heated fancy, than the notion that he had attained to Christian perfection, and felt in himself the manifestations of the Spirit. Weary of this life at last, after many years, and awakened to a sense of its guilt as well as its vanity, he returned to England in his old age, resumed his clerical functions, and appears to have been received by his wife. Wesley was satisfied that his contrition was real, and hastened to visit him upon his death-bed, but it was too late. "I came," he says, "just time enough not to see, but to bury poor Mr. Hall, my brother-in-law, who died, I trust, in peace, for God had given him deep repentance. Such another monument of divine mercy, considering how low he had fallen, and from what height of holiness, I have not seen, no, not in seventy years! I had designed to visit him in the morning, but he did not stay for my coming. It is enough if, after all his wanderings, we meet again in Abraham's bosom." Mrs. Hall bore her fate with resignation, and with an inward consciousness that her punishment was not heavier than her fault :-that fault excepted, the course of her life was exemplary, and she lived to be the last survivor of a family whose years were protracted far beyond the ordinary age of man. Mehetabel, her sister, had a life of more unmingled affliction. In the spring freshness of youth and hope, her affections were engaged by one who, in point of abilities and situation, might have been a suitable husband; some circumstances, however, occasioned a disagreement with her father, the match was broken off, and Hetty committed a fatal error, which many women have committed in their just but This blind resentment-she married the first person who offered. was a man in no desirable rank of life, of coarse mind and manners, inferior to herselfin education and in intellect, and every way unworthy of a woman whose equal in all things it would have been difficult to find. For her person was more than commonly pleasing, her disposition gentle and affectionate, her principles those which arm the heart either for prosperous or adverse fortune, her talents remarkable, and her attainments beyond what are ordinarily permitted to women, even those who are the most highly educated. Duty in her had produced so much affection toward the miserable creature whom she had made her husband, that the brutal profligacy of his conduct almost broke her heart. Under such feelings, and at a time when she believed and hoped she should soon be at peace in the grave, she composed this Epitaph for herself: Destined while living to sustain A broken heart can bleed no more. From that illness, however, she recovered, so far as to linger on for many years, living to find in religion the consolation which she needed, and which nothing else can bestow. The state of her mind is beautifully expressed in the first letter which she ever addressed to John upon the subject. "Some years ago," she says, "I told my brother Charles I could not be of his way of thinking then, but that if ever I was, I would as freely own it. After I was convinced of sin, and of your opinion, as far as I had examined your principles, I still forebore declaring my sentiments so openly as I had inclination to do, fearing I should relapse into my former state. When I was delivered from this fear, and had a blessed hope that he who had begun would finish his work, I never confessed, so fully as I ought, how entirely I was of your mind; because I was taxed with insincerity and hypocrisy whenever I opened my mouth in favour of religion, or owned how great things God had done for me. This discouraged me utterly, and prevented me from making my change as public as my folly and vanity had formerly been. But now my health is gone, I cannot be easy without declaring that I have long desired to know but one thing, that is Jesus Christ and him crucified; and this desire prevails above all others. And though I am cut off from all human help or ministry, I am not without assistance; though I have no spiritual friend, nor ever had one yet, except perhaps once in a year or two, when I have seen one of my brothers, or some other religious person, by stealth; yet, (no thanks to me,) I am enabled to seek him still, and to be satified with nothing less than God, in whose presence I affirm this truth.-I dare not desire health, only patience, resignation, and the spirit of an healthful mind. I have been so long weak, that I know not how long my trial may last; but I have a firm persua VOL. 11. D sion, and blessed hope, (though no full assurance,) that in the country I am going to, I shall not sing hallelujah, and holy, holy, without company, as I have done in this. Dear brother, I am unused to speak or write on these things; I only speak my plain thoughts as they occur. Adieu! If you have time from better business to send a line to Stanmore, so great a comfort would be as welcome as it is wanted." She lived eight years after this letter was written, bearing her sufferings with patience and pious hope. Charles was with her in her last illness. He says in his journal, "Prayed by my sister Wright, a gracious, tender, trembling soul; a bruised reed, which the Lord will not break." Thy sun shall no more go down, neither shall thy moon withdraw itself, for the Lord shall be thine everlasting light, and the days of thy mourning shall be ended." From these words he preached her funeral sermon, with a feeling which brought him into "sweet fellowship with the departed ;" and he says, that all who were present seemed to partake both of his sorrow and his joy. Another of the sisters married a clergyman by name Whitelamb, who had been John's pupil at Oxford, was beholden to the family* during his stay at college, and obtained the living of Wroote after his father-in-law's death. John, in the beginning of his regular itineraney, on his way back from Newcastle, after his first appearance in that town, came to Epworth. Many years had elapsed since he had been in his native place, and not knowing whether there were any persons left in it who would not be ashamed of his acquaintance, he went to an inn, where, however, he was soon found out by an old servant of his father's. The next day being Sunday, he called upon the curate. Mr. Romley, and offered to assist him either by preaching or reading prayers; but his assistance was refused, and the use of the pulpit was denied him. A rumour, however, prevailed, that he was to preach in the afternoon; the church was filled in consequence, and a sermon was delivered upon the evils of enthusiasm, to which Wesley listened with his characteristic composure. But when the sermon was over, his companion gave notice, as the people were coming out, that Mr. Wesley, not being permitted to preach in the church, would preach in the church-yard at six o'clock. "Accordingly," says he, "at six I came, and found such a congregation as I believe Epworth never saw before. I stood near the east end of the church, upon my father's tomb-stone, and cried, The kingdom of Heaven is not meat and drink, but righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost.'" Wesley has been accused harshly and hastily of want of feeling, because he preached upon his father's grave. But it was from feeling, as much as enthusiasm, that he acted; knowing that he should derive a deeper passion from the ground upon which he stood; like the Greek tragedian, who, when he performed Electra, brought into the theatre the urn containing the ashes of his own child. Nor was there any danger that the act should be misconstrued by those who heard him : mad they might think him, but they knew his domestic character, and were assured that he had not stood *Writing to his brother Samuel, in 1732, Wesley says, " John Whitelamb wants a gown much; I am not rich enough to buy him one at present. If you are willing, my twenty shillings (that were) should go towards that I will add ten to them, and let it lie till I have tried my utmost with my friends to make up the price of a new one. 66 with a holier or more reverential feeling beside that grave when his father's body was consigned to it, earth to earth. Seven successive evenings he preached upon that tomb stone, and in no place did he ever preach with greater effect. Lamentations," he says, "and great groanings, were heard, God bowing their hearts so, and on every side, as, with one accord, they lifted up their voices and wept aloud; several dropped down as dead; and, among the rest, such a cry was heard of sinners groaning for the righteousness of faith, as almost drowned my voice. But many of these soon lifted up their heads with joy, aud broke out into thanksgiving, being assured they now bad the desire of their soul, the forgiveness of their sins." Whitelamb was one of his auditors, and wrote to him afterwards in terms which, while they show a just sense of the rash doctrine that he preached, and the extravagance that he encouraged, show also the powerful ascendancy which Wesley had obtained over him by his talents and his virtues. "Dear brother," he says, "I saw you at Epworth on Tuesday evening. Fain would I have spoken to you, but that I am quite at a loss how to address or behave. Your way of thinking is so extraordinary, that your presence creates an awe, as if you were an inhabitant of another world. God grant you and your followers may always have entire liberty of conscience: will you not allow others the same? Indeed I cannot think as you do, any more than I can help honouring and loving you. Dear Sir, will you credit me? I retain the highest veneration and affection for you. The sight of you moves me strangely. I feel, in a higher degree, all that tenderness and yearning of bowels with which I am affected toward every branch of Mr. Wesley's family. I cannot refrain from tears, when i reflect, this is the man who at Oxford was more than a father to me! this is he whom I have heard expound and dispute publicly, or preach at St. Mary's with such applause! and, oh that I should ever add, whom I have lately heard at Epworth! Dear Sir, is it in my power to serve or oblige you in any way? Glad I should be that you would make use of me. God open all our eyes, and lead us into truth, whatever it be." Wesley has said that Whitelamb did not at this time believe in Christianity, nor for many years afterwards. If it were so, the error was not improbably occasioned by a strong perception of the excesses into which the Methodists had been betrayed; just as monkery and Romish fables produce irreligion in Catholic countries. But it is most likely a hasty, or a loose expression, for Whitelamb was a man of excellent character: no tendency to unbelief appears in such of his letters as have been published; and the contrary inference may be drawn from what he says to Charles : "I cannot but look upon your doctrines as of ill consequence ;-consequence, I say ; for, take them nakedly in themselves, and nothing seems more innocent; nay, good and holy. Suppose we grant that in you and the rest of the leaders, who are men of sense and discernment, what is called the seal and testimony of the Spirit is something real, yet I have great reason to think that in the generality of your followers, it is merely the effect of a heated fancy." This is judicious language, and certainly betrays no mark of irreligion. He offered his pulpit to Wesley, and incurred much censure for so doing, from |