Chapter I: WAS not prepared for the intelligence contained in your very kind

letter of the 26th, having hoped, from the improvement of your health at the date of your previous letter, that you would shortly return to your important charge at Madeley, and that you might have continued there many years, an instrument of blessing others, and being _increasingly_ blessed yourself in your work. But, I doubt not, all is well and wisely ordered, and will add my affectionate though feeble prayers that you may be divinely directed in all things.

Your letter, the end of February last, left it doubtful, whether Mr. A. B— might not have finally determined to become your assistant in the parish; and, prior to your last favour, I was looking to hear from you next month, to know how this matter had terminated, in order that I might judge whether the expectation of being associated with you, which I had not entirely relinquished, might not be realized. I now beg to state, that, owing to the inquiries of a beloved clerical brother, two curacies have been offered to me within the present month, both of which I have declined. And now, my dear friend, I put it to you, whether you think Madeley is such a post as would suit one with such slender ministerial qualifications as I deeply feel that I possess; and whether you think your parishioners would be disposed to receive me favourably? If you do, I leave myself in God’s hand and yours, desiring that _He_ may do with me as seemeth good in His sight; and requesting _you_ to take such steps as you may judge proper. The difficulty as to the time of resigning my present cure may probably be got over soon after Michaelmas; my vicar having said, when last I saw him, that he would release me on reasonable notice, if anything eligible should be offered to me: still I wish to remain in my present sphere as long as I conveniently can. Having said thus much, I will only add that Madeley has been regarded by me for many years as a spot peculiarly sacred; it is still more endeared to me by the consideration that my beloved and highly esteemed friend has been labouring for ten years in that favoured scene of the apostolical Fletcher’s ministry.

I wait with interest, but not with any anxiety, to hear from you the result of my present communication. Believe me ever,

My dear Friend,

Yours very affectionately,
JOHN COOPER.

TO THE REV. THOMAS MORTIMER.

Yardley, July 11, 1826.

My dear Brother,

You will be glad to hear that dear Cooper has expressed a wish to succeed me at Madeley; and, in consequence, an application has been made by myself and the parishioners on his behalf, which has been most favourably received, and Mr. Burton has nominated him to succeed me. Most truly thankful do I feel that it has pleased God to give to the dear people such a man. May he long be continued to them, and may very blessed days be still in reserve for that honoured spot.

My visit among them was highly gratifying to myself, and I hope I may say not unacceptable to them. I never witnessed in them such overflowings of kindest feelings, and, what I hardly anticipated, while they manifested affectionate regrets, I do not recollect a single instance in which they censured or chode; but, on the contrary, seemed to think that the step, though painful, was necessary.

Our own plans are still somewhat uncertain. We think, however, of moving towards Bristol, and of fixing somewhere within a mile or two of the city, and have written to George Yate to engage us a ready-furnished house for about a month. We expect to leave this place the 30th of August.

But I have said nothing of dear Mr. Butterworth’s removal, on which your last letter principally dwelt. I felt surprised and pained beyond my ordinary feelings on such occasions; for almost all that I possess spiritually, I owe, under God, to him. But after all, he is not lost to me, for I trust I shall rejoin him ere long; and, even during the short interval of apparent separation, who can tell how near he may still be to me, and how materially he may still be permitted to help me? But, however this may be, Jesus remains the same, and I trust that the removal of every endeared medium of good may be the means of uniting me more fully to Him.

Our kindest love to yourself and family, to my dear mother, Eliza, &c.; and I remain,

Your ever affectionate Brother,
GEORGE.

* * * * *

The _letter_ from which the following extract is made, is chiefly in reference to the providing means for an assistant-curate at Madeley; towards which, Mr. Mortimer proposed to furnish £10 per annum, and also a further sum of £10 per annum to aid the Curate’s Poor Fund, for relieving the sick and distressed poor of the populous parish of Madeley; and it is due to Mr. M.’s kindness and benevolence to state, that during the period of his friend’s curacy, he generously contributed each year the proposed amount for the poor; and for three years (during which time only an assistant curate was employed), the like sum towards the other object named.

TO THE REV. JOHN COOPER.

Yardley, July 31, 1826.

My dear Friend,

OUR way towards Bristol appears to be opening. A very singular circumstance connected with it has just occurred. It seems to us all to be too pantomimic—too magical—to be true. But yet, what cannot the God of wisdom and of love effect! We are striving to wait, as you expressed yourself in a former letter about Madeley, “with interest but without anxiety” to see the result. Oh, what a comfort it is to feel calmly assured that, while we are leaving ourselves in God’s hands, all must eventually be well. Mary unites with me in kindest regards to yourself and dear Mrs. C—, and

I remain, my dear Friend,

Yours, very sincerely,
G. M.

TO THE SAME.

Horfield, near Bristol, October 18, 1826.

My very dear Friend,

HAD not circumstances of various kinds interfered, you would ere this have seen me at Wherwell; but, as I had no control over these, and kept expecting that in a few more days I should be able to write to you definitely, I hope you will not too harshly censure me, when I tell you at length that my projected visit, like too many of my projections, has come to nothing, and that it will not be in my power to see you before you leave. But, after all, your removal is not to a distant country, and many may be the circumstances which the kind Providence of God shall permit for our future intercourse. You speak, indeed, of a kind of necessity for conference and consultation at the present juncture. Of this, however, I am far from being convinced; for I think a stranger always proceeds best with the least previous acquaintance with the minutiæ of characters and proceedings. A general idea is quite necessary; but everything that is circumstantial creates a prejudice either to the advantage or disadvantage of the parties concerned. The fresh unbiassed inspection brings us, for the most part, nearest the truth. Every one with whom I converse, who has any knowledge of you, joins with me in thankfulness to God that it has pleased Him to direct your steps to Madeley; most fully does it seem to have been, from beginning to end, from Him; to Him, therefore, may we ever give the praise. And may you, my much-endeared friend, be so fully qualified for your important charge; may the barrel of meal also granted for your dear people’s supply waste not, nor the cruse of oil fail; or, in other words, may matter and unction be so abundantly imparted, and so graciously continued, that the time may never come in which your ministrations may prove burdensome to yourself, or either uninteresting or unedifying to your hearers. With kindest regards, I remain,

Yours, ever affectionately,
GEORGE MORTIMER.

* * * * *

Mr. Mortimer’s life has now been brought down to the close of his services at Madeley, where he had been resident pastor for about ten years. In taking a review of this period, we find him to have abounded in the great duties of his office—in works of faith and labours of love. What with his Sunday duties, his classes, his expositions, his schools, his pastoral visits, and his manifold acts of charity and kindness to the poor, in a parish containing very nearly six thousand souls, with his weakly constitution, and by no means robust health, the wonder is that he was enabled to carry on so arduous a course for so long a time. Madeley has been long and highly favoured; it is to be hoped that the people have both appreciated and improved their privileges. Mr. Mortimer met with much kindness, encouragement, and acceptance in the diligent pursuit of his self-denying career in that parish, and the decade of his services there was no doubt attended with much usefulness, though the extent of it may never be known until the great day shall reveal it. He met also with much that was trying and perplexing to him; much to wound his loving spirit; much to grieve his affectionate heart; much to prove his faith and try his patience; but he neither flinched from duty, nor swerved from the line of conduct which became him as a minister of the Established Church; and, what is more, he treated neither opposition in the spirit of retaliation, nor opposers in a spirit of harshness or severity. He was eminently a man of peace, a man of love, a man of placability. The commencement of his services in the parish was attended with great difficulties. Considerable irregularities had been practised by his predecessors; in their steps, in this respect, he was determined not to tread; and though he felt himself bound to resist all entreaty on this subject, to the offending of many, yet was it his prayer, his study, his endeavour to conciliate all. His steady though moderate Churchmanship was, perhaps, always more or less a ground of offence in a parish which had long been under the influence of Methodism; but wherever good sense and piety prevailed his motives were respected, and his conduct appreciated.

It was on the manifestation of some unhallowed zeal of party spirit that the following addresses were printed and circulated in his parish, and which exhibit the very moderate and conciliatory spirit of their truly Christian author.

ADDRESS OF THE MINISTER OF MADELEY TO SUCH OF THE INHABITANTS OF COALBROOKDALE AND ITS VICINITY, AS DO NOT CONSIDER THEMSELVES MEMBERS OF THE ESTABLISHED CHURCH.

Vicarage, February 21, 1822.

My endeared Parishioners,

IT has lately appeared to me an indispensable duty to visit more extensively my parish, and to devote myself more fully to other branches of my ministerial office. In the course of my visits I found a strong regret expressed by many, that it was not in their power to connect themselves either with me as their minister, or with the Established Church as their religious communion: and that this, their inability, arose principally from the great distance of the parish church from their respective abodes. This difficulty I have endeavoured partially to remove by beginning an exposition on alternate Monday evenings: {142} and I hope soon to be able still further to meet their wishes by assembling with them every other Sunday morning, on a plan similar to that now adopted at the Ironbridge school-room on the Sabbath evenings.

I feel a little apprehensive, however, lest these my proceedings should be considered by some as intentionally interfering with other modes and places of worship already adopted and attended in your neighbourhood; and lest my motives should be so far misconstrued, as to be identified with narrow-minded prejudice, or with intolerant hostility.

It should be remembered, however, that all persons have, and cannot help having, their preferences; and likewise, that these preferences may be openly shown by them, and even occasionally employed in influencing others, without the least hostility towards those who continue in another persuasion. And I can appeal with the greatest confidence to my own conduct during nearly seven years’ residence among you, as a proof of this assertion. For though I have uniformly shown a decided preference towards the Established Church, yet I am not aware of having discovered, in a single instance, the least opposition or hostility towards any individual of another communion, merely as such. Much, indeed, on my first coming into the parish, was unhappily advanced to the contrary; but I was determined to take no notice of such remarks, assured that they had no foundation in myself, and that, when my line of conduct should be better understood, they would gradually die away, and a different feeling be eventually adopted. This different feeling has, I am happy to state, long been cherished by many; and it was from a strong desire that nothing contrary to it should prevail in consequence of my present ministerial procedures, that I have been induced to send you this circular address.

Oh, let me then, as your minister, entreat you not to regard me with a misgiving or suspecting mind; but from the fulness of a loving and a Christian heart to wish and to supplicate for me abundant success. And be not hasty in censuring either myself or others for attachment to our venerable and established forms. Give to us what you feel entitled to demand for yourselves; I mean the right of preference. And amidst certain shades of difference, let brotherly love not only continue among us, but let it abound yet more and more. And with regard to myself, I do most sincerely pray God that no feeling may be cherished by me, no single expression uttered, and no conduct whatever pursued, which may, in any respect, tend to its diminution.

With feelings, then, of unfeigned affection, believe me, my much-endeared Parishioners,

Your sincerely devoted Friend and Minister,

GEORGE MORTIMER.

ADDRESS OF THE MINISTER OF MADELEY TO THE INHABITANTS OF MADELEY WOOD AND ITS VICINITY.

Vicarage, March 23, 1822.

My endeared Parishioners,

THE very kind reception given to the Address which I circulated among the inhabitants of Coalbrookdale and its vicinity, and the feelings of mutual love and affection it has been the means of eliciting, encourage me to hope that a similar appeal to yourselves will be attended with equally beneficial results.

The principal reason of my now addressing you, is, that I have very painfully witnessed, within the short space of two or three weeks, a great increase of party spirit arising from the measures recently adopted towards forming and carrying on a Sunday school separate and distinct from that which has so long been established among us. The natural consequences of such procedures, I am willing to hope, you did not sufficiently estimate, or I can hardly imagine you would so hastily, and at such a time, have adopted them. You are sensible, I think, that my wish is for peace; that my great desire is, that love may not only prevail, but abound more and more; and that I am striving to pursue that line of conduct, which, as a consistent minister of the Established Church, devolves upon me, so as not to give the least unnecessary offence to others. Permit me, then, to ask, whether these recent measures are at all likely to produce such pacific results? Do they not rather tend to range more decidedly than ever under distinct and separate parties, not only the superintendents and teachers, but likewise the parents of the children themselves? Do they not in some measure force persons to declare themselves on one side or other, and that not merely in opinion, but likewise in decisive action? And are not the individuals, thus compelled to declare themselves, regarded with suspicion by those who move in contrary directions? I would inquire, then, is all this calculated to keep the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace? And are those individuals our best friends who are most earnest in this work of alienation? I mean no personal allusions, I assure you, to any individual among you: I hope I very sincerely love you all; and I wish that bonds of union may be multiplied, which may bring us closer and closer together, instead of these cords of separation which, drawing in other directions, will every day remove us to a greater and yet greater distance.

Permit me also to ask whether this is the time for such exertions? If indeed your minister were sleeping at his post; if he were lying down, and loving to slumber; if the schools happened to be on the decline in respect of numbers, or in regard to the insufficiency of superintendents or teachers; if scarcely anything were going forward adequate to the necessities of the parish; then, indeed, such exertions might be called for. But how contrary is all this to the real state of the case! It is at a time when the schools are so crowded as to render it impossible to instruct them in the usual place: it is at a time when, to afford greater facilities of instruction, the larger schools are being divided into twenty or thirty minor schools, and these so situated as to be almost at the door of every child in the parish, and so arranged as to admit of every one being taught who is capable of instruction. You will readily perceive, then, that the stir which is making at present, is by no means called for in the existing necessities of the case. To what, then, must it be attributed? It is commonly reported that it arises from a fear entertained by some, lest my present plans and procedures should attach too many children to the Established Church, and thus eventually make them Churchmen instead of Methodists. This reason, however, I feel I ought by no means to admit; for, whatever may be said of others, the Methodists of the parish of Madeley have long made it their boast that they were firm in their attachment to our venerable Church: and so strong has been their attachment, that the majority of them would never listen to any proposals of having their services so conducted as at all to interfere with the services of the church, and would never permit the sacrament to be administered in their chapels; and there are many who feel a secret satisfaction in being able to state, that they have never yet partaken of the sacred ordinance, excepting from a clergyman; and they are still determined that no one shall ever make this their consistent glorying to be in vain. {146} It is with peculiar satisfaction, that I consider my relation to such individuals; and I assure you, I rejoice over you as my parishioners; I point you out as an example to others; and I hope we shall never see the time when the parishioners, and more especially the spiritual sons and daughters of the venerable and apostolic Mr. Fletcher, shall cease to be identified with that Church of which he was so bright an ornament, as well as minister. I feel, therefore, that it would be the height of injustice to suppose, that the mass of such of my people as are termed Methodists have any fear of their children becoming members of the Established Church; nay, they would rather rejoice in it;—they rejoice in it even now;—and some of them go so far as even to recommend it. They tell their children, in the fulness of their Catholic spirit, that their own attachment to the people with whom they are joined, never arose from dissatisfaction to the Church, but from a natural love to the private means which their own people at that time so exclusively possessed. But they add, that as these same private means are now offered to them in connexion with the Established Church, they would advise them to join themselves with its respected members; and hence it is, that not a few among our classes are the sons and daughters of such honoured individuals. I say honoured, for who can withhold from such the proper meed of approbation; for such heal the breaches of our Zion, they build up its waste places; they repair the desolations of many generations.

I am aware, however, that the same extent of feeling is not cherished by all. Some prefer their own communion, their own instructors, and classes. But I have heard such with the greatest candour acknowledge, that their predilection arose merely from the circumstance that they happened to receive their first religious good among them; and that notwithstanding this their preference, they very highly respect the Church, and that they wish its ministers abundant success in their very important work. And this I am persuaded is the feeling of ninety-nine out of a hundred of the Methodists who compose my parish. The welcome they invariably give me when I enter their houses or cottages; the smile of approbation which brightens on their countenance when we exchange salutations as we pass; and the liberality which they discover in all points of possible difference whenever they are accidentally touched upon: all these things convince me that they have no hostility either to the Church or to myself, and of course that they would not willingly enter upon any plan which might have the least semblance of opposition.

To what, then, some will still ask, must these procedures connected with the schools be attributed? I feel, I confess, somewhat at a loss to determine. I hope, however, that they have arisen merely from a well-meant, though certainly an ill-timed, zeal—a zeal, likewise, which has a direct tendency, though not previously estimated, to promote disunion among us, and a diminution of loving Christian feelings. But whatever may have been the cause of these procedures, I do hope, that the serious evils which are beginning as a consequence to break forth, will not only be checked, but entirely subside; and that all parties, superintendents, teachers, and parents, will each in their respective stations be ready to show that they are not among the last to bring about so desirable an issue.

And now, with very sincere affection, believe me, my much-endeared Parishioners,

Your faithful Friend and Minister,
GEORGE MORTIMER.

* * * * *

The following simple narrative, related by his attached and faithful servant Fanny, also beautifully displays the very kind and earnest, though very decided, character of the excellent pastor of Madeley.

“Some of the beer shops at the Iron Bridge used to be kept open very
late at night, and master was determined to put a stop to their being
open later than ten o’clock. He used to go to them, and turn out all
the men that were drinking in them after that time. This enraged
some of these men so much, that they declared they would kill master;
for they said, ‘they were determined that no parson should interfere
with them.’ Some of master’s friends heard of this, and told him,
and tried to persuade him not to go to the Iron Bridge the next
night; and Mr. and Mrs. Thomas did not wish him to go; and we all
begged him to stay at home that night; but he told us he was not at
all afraid of the men, and when I said that they would be sure to do
him some harm, he said, ‘Why, Fanny, they have no power over me to
hurt me; the Almighty is above them.’ So master went to the public
house, and saw the very men that had threatened to kill him, and he
talked to them for a long time, and told them that they ought to have
been at home with their families, and that he hoped he should never
see them there again. He spoke so kindly, that they all listened to
him, and never offered to hurt him; and when he had done talking to
them, they told him, that they had fully determined to make an attack
upon him that night, but that _then_ they felt as if they had no
power to hurt him. So master shook hands with them all, and then
they all took off their hats and wished him ‘safe home,’ and ‘long
life to him.’ And they were never there again after ten o’clock; and
I think what master said to them then, did one or two of them so much
good, that they afterwards became pious.”

Mr. Mortimer was equally desirous of putting a stop to the desecration of the Lord’s day by the bargemen on the River Severn, and, for this purpose, he tried every means to prevent the barges from sailing on the Sunday. In doing this, he experienced great opposition from some of the barge owners, who purposely, as it appeared, kept their vessels locked at Coalport at the latter end of the week, and released them on the Sunday. At length Mr. M. was compelled to take them before the magistrates, and have them fined, by which means he succeeded in entirely putting a stop to this desecration.

He exerted himself also to have the law enforced against keeping open the public houses and beer shops during the time of divine service.

He took pains to prevent the children from playing about the roads and fields on the Sunday, and to secure the orderly behaviour of the Sunday scholars in going to and returning from the Sunday schools. There were at one period six hundred children in the different schools in the parish of Madeley.

The class meetings consisted of six; one for women, conducted by Mrs. Mortimer, and the other five by Mr. M. Once a quarter, the six classes met at one place. Mr. Mortimer’s object in having these class meetings, though he evidently considered them as auxiliary to the public ordinances of religion, was to prevent the serious members of his congregation from joining the Methodists, which he had constantly found to be the case at Wellington.

The following token of affectionate esteem was, no doubt, very acceptable to the feelings of Mr. Mortimer, not so much from the worth of it, as from the motive which gave rise to it—a motive at once honourable to the hearts of the donors and to the character of the receiver. This token was a handsome octavo Bible, bound in morocco, inscribed on one side,

“To the Rev. George Mortimer, M.A.
A Token of Christian Regard
From the Male Class, meeting under his care at Lincoln-hill,
1817.”

And on the other side,

“With a sincere desire that the rich promises contained herein may be
his consolation through life, and his support in death.”

The following anecdote may, perhaps, be more suitably introduced here than elsewhere, because, in all probability, it was during his residence at Madeley that the fact recorded took place, though it was not related to his daughter, who communicated it to me, before the winter of 1842–3, during a sleigh-drive with her father, while descending a hill, which was in a dangerous state, owing to its slipperiness and to there being no barrier on the one side which was the edge of a precipice.

“K— and I (and perhaps a third person, but I am not sure about that)
were travelling from Wellington to Madeley in a post chaise. When we
were about to descend a precipitous hill, something seemed to say to
me, ‘Pray, you are in danger.’ I resisted the impression, and said
to myself, it is all nonsense; I will not give way to superstitious
fears. Again the warning was impressed on my mind, and I then paused
and lifted up my heart in prayer to God. I had no sooner done so,
than I heard the postillion contending with his horses, which were
plunging into the hedge on one side of the road; then they dashed to
the other side, and it appeared as though we should have been
precipitated over the side of the hill; but we reached the bottom in
safety. I then said to K—, ‘I will tell you what has been passing in
my mind,’ and related to him all the circumstances. K— then told me,
that just at the same time, as he supposed from my description of the
spot, the same thing was suggested to his mind, and that at first he
repelled the suggestion, but afterwards yielded to it; but that he
had not the honesty to confess the circumstance till I had done so.
I know K— well, and feel perfectly assured that he would tell me
nothing but the truth; and from the remarkable circumstance of the
suggestion being made to the minds of both of us, I cannot, but
believe it was an intimation from above of our danger and of the
necessity of prayer. For, although his angels are always at hand to
succour us in danger, yet God has been pleased to make prayer a
necessary means for obtaining their aid. When I am in my grave, tell
this for the benefit of others as an encouragement to prayer.”

My dear young friend and god-daughter adds, “I was very much impressed by the charge with which my dear father concluded, and, that I might be the better able to fulfil it, I wrote down the whole relation when I returned home, of which the above is a copy.”

I very gladly comply with a hope expressed by Mr. Mortimer’s eldest daughter that I will insert in the memoir of her dear father, a letter addressed to her by him when she was about ten years of age; and, as it was written during his residence at Madeley, I insert it here before we take leave of that place:—

“We returned to Madeley on the evening of last Thursday week; and I
am thankful to state that we have all of us received considerable
benefit from our journey. Your brothers and sisters seemed to enjoy
themselves exceedingly. The latter part of the time we were joined
by your uncle, who spent about eight days with us; and having hired a
car for that time capable of holding eight or nine persons, we were
enabled to see all that was worth seeing in the neighbourhood. We
often wished that you and C— had been with us in our excursions; but
more particularly while we were going over the castle of Aberconway,
for it struck us as conveying one of the most perfect ideas of both
the extent and uses of a castle of any we could recollect to have
seen. The town also is surrounded by a strong and turretted wall,
and gives a good notion of a walled city, such as we read of as
connected with former times.

“We greatly prefer Glan y don to Barmouth. It is about six miles
from Abergeley, in Denbighshire, North Wales. It is situated in a
delightful recess termed Llandrillo Bay, and the scenery all around
is picturesque in the extreme. Such a pleasing combination of the
sublime and beautiful I have seldom seen. The sea-shore, however,
after all, presented us with the chief attractions. I collected and
fixed the names of many of our English shells, and that also in a
state far more perfect than before. I began also a collection of
marine plants. These I shall have pleasure in showing to you when
you return home. You will be surprised, perhaps, when I tell you
that they amount to upwards of sixty different sorts, and these are
exceedingly few in comparison of those I should have met with had we
been there a longer time, or had we waited for the equinoctial winds,
which, perhaps you know, bring the greatest quantity of marine
substances to the shore, tearing them from the rocks to which they
adhere and grow.

“A— begins to learn the names of a few of the more common shells, and
was much pleased with making an incipient collection. He has
purchased some plain cards, and, after dividing them by pencil marks
into regular departments, he pasted his specimens upon them; and I
think you will say, they look tolerably well.

“Your aunt — stopped with us about a fortnight after you left us, and
I accompanied her up to London. The only coach, which we could with
any convenience go by, was principally occupied by nine convicts, who
were being conveyed from Shrewsbury to London, previous to
transportation; and, during the night, two of them were in the coach
with your aunt and myself. These were two of the most noted
pickpockets belonging to a Shrewsbury gang, and, as you will readily
suppose, we were not at first much disposed to relish their company.
But, as they were ironed and exceedingly well-behaved, we soon got
reconciled to them, and were not a little interested in the
observation of this novel description of character. It presented,
however, a melancholy admixture of ingenuity and depravity.

“You will be sorry to hear that during our absence at the sea, poor
Mr. P— died. He dropped down suddenly while standing in the
rope-walk, and never spoke afterwards. He was advanced in years and
his death was expected; but still, in such an uncertain world as
this, who can be secure? May we all be fully prepared when our
summons shall arrive.

“You inquire concerning H. He began his letters while we were at
Glan y don; but I cannot say any great things as to his proficiency.
Within these few days we have permitted him to dine at our table, and
he has behaved so very well that we intend he should continue to do
so for the future. L. and P., for nearly a month past, have been
introduced to our morning family prayer, and I am happy to state that
they conduct themselves with much propriety.”

After spending about eighteen months at Yardley, near Birmingham, exchanging duties with the vicar of that parish, Mr. Mortimer finally left Madeley and removed to Clifton, August 30, 1826; but the situation not being in accordance with his retired habits, he took a house at Horfield, whither he removed on the 10th of October of the same year. From this place was written the letter of which the following is an extract, bearing date, January 17, 1827.

TO THE REV. JOHN ARMSTRONG, BUENOS AYRES.

FROM my brother, who joined us here the day after the arrival of your letter, I was rejoiced to find that Mrs. Armstrong and your family had arrived in safety; for though your frequent voyages must have familiarized _you_ in some degree to danger, yet _we_ who encounter nothing beyond the minor and comparatively trivial perils by land, feel a something approaching to _wondering_ gratitude at your seemingly hairbreadth escapes. But possibly I misjudge my endeared friend. The observation which he has thus had “of the works of the Lord and of his wonders in the deep” has called forth his augmented tribute of praise. And I trust that being once more surrounded by his dear family, his comforts will thicken around him, and his sun of prosperity will become brighter and brighter, and that, if consistent with the divine will, it may set again no more.

By the commencement of my letter, you will perceive that _I_ have been wandering as well as yourself; and, considering the difference of our locomotive powers, I am almost disposed to regard my own movements as the most astonishing. Madeley I have entirely given up, and left in the hands of my dear friend Cooper, than whom, I know not any one more suited to the place. He is, I find, very acceptable. I can say but little at present of myself: for my _first_ object in settling here was the health of myself and family, which has already, I am thankful to say, been considerably improved. And now I am waiting for the first eligible employment which shall present itself in Bristol, that my renewed health and strength may be devoted to the glory of Him who has mercifully restored them, and to the benefit, I trust, of those around me. But though I have not as yet any settled employment, I am almost constantly engaged twice on the Sabbath, and, were I not resolutely to refuse, I should frequently be requested to take a third service.

TO THE SAME.

Horfield, near Bristol, May 23, 1827.

My much-endeared Friend,

FOR with these appellations I must address you, though the long intervals which I suffer to transpire between my addresses may perhaps induce the suspicion that they are not the legitimate expressions of the heart. But as this is the general, not to say the universal, character of my correspondence, and as you must, by this time, have had sufficient opportunities of discovering my weak points, I will comfort myself with the hope, that though you find me tardy, yet that you will not regard me as insincere.

Your letter of the 18th of August last was conveyed, I presume, through some private hand, and did not reach me till some months after its date. It contained, as you will perhaps recollect, the painful accounts of the bereavements which you have lately been called to endure, in the loss of your two most beloved daughters; and to one of your disposition and habits—one so affectionate, and domestic, and in every sense paternal—the dispensation must have been one of no ordinary suffering; and yet so sweetly do the feelings of the true Christian combine with those of the sorrowing parent, that I almost envy you the power which you so blessedly possess; an attainment to which I look up, when I consider it in reference to yourself, with admiring gratitude; but which, when I advert to, in contrast to my own imperfect and limited experience, humbles me in the dust. Hitherto, indeed, I have had but little affliction in my family; yet that little has not been borne with that meek and patient submission—with that deadness to the world and that detachment from the creature—which ought to characterize the child of God. But if I so readily faint in the day of comparatively minor sorrows, how can I be expected to stand in the day of increased and lengthened suffering—the _evil_ day, asked for by Satanic malignity, and rendered but too necessary in order to bring before me the latent evils of my own unsanctified heart? Still, however, the divine panoply has been mercifully provided; and what should hinder me from becoming strong in the Lord and in the power of his might? I will therefore hope in his mercy. I will expect, that should sufferings await me, such as those with which my endeared friend has been visited, I may still be enabled to glorify my God in the day of my visitations; and then all will be well. For sanctified sorrow not only loses all its pungent and corrosive, and deadly qualities, and thus leaves our neutralized minds in the possession of calm and settled peace; but it has reference also to that happy and eternal state above, where all our light and momentary afflictions shall be succeeded by that inconceivable weight of glory which shall suffer neither diminution nor end.

* * * * *

Mr. Mortimer’s next engagement in the duties of his sacred office, was at St. Mary le Port, Bristol, first undertaken temporarily during the serious illness of the regular minister, the Rev. Thomas Grinfield, which lasted for some months, and afterwards sharing the services with him for a year, before his going to the curacy of Hutton. He entered upon this duty for the first time, on Sunday, December 10, 1826, and continued in the discharge of it until the end of September, 1828. In this sphere he seems to have laboured with peculiar pleasure, acceptance, and usefulness; his talents as a preacher appear to have been better appreciated, and his services more valued, than in any other situation that he filled either before or afterwards; and, speaking after human judgment, I cannot help regretting that ever he felt it to be his duty to leave a field of so much promise, and one which he was so well calculated to improve and cultivate; and, if I do not greatly mistake, his own mind was not entirely free from feelings of regret on this subject. Of his adaptation to the place and of the benefits resulting from his ministry there, he was not himself insensible. He thus writes to his sister, Mrs. Holland, August 5, 1828:—

“In my ministerial duties it has pleased the Lord to give me a degree
of acceptance among my present charge which I was never favoured with
before. At Madeley, indeed, the attendance was good, and as much of
interest was kept up and spiritual benefit conveyed, as kept my
naturally anxious and misgiving mind from quite sinking; but in
Bristol it has been far otherwise. The attendance at church has
greatly increased; the affection of the people seems to be given me
in an unusual degree; and I do hope the blessing of the Lord keeps
bringing home the word with power to their hearts.”

He makes reference also to his labours at St. Mary le Port, in a letter to the Rev. John Cooper, in terms which sufficiently indicate his own feelings and sentiments, and which are plainly expressive of his own judgment upon a comparative view of his services at Bristol with those performed elsewhere.

Hutton, near Cross, Somersetshire, Feb. 4, 1829.

My much-endeared Friend,