Madeley, June 1, 1822.
My dear Friend,
IT afforded me great pleasure to see, on Tuesday last, your kind friend,
Colonel Arthur [now Sir George Arthur, Bart. and Governor of Bombay], who
arrived at Liverpool on the preceding Friday. He was accompanied by his
lady, three children, and two servants, all of them in good health,
though Mrs. Arthur and the children bore the usual paleness which
Europeans so readily discover in the countenances of West Indian
residents. I felt much gratified by the colonel’s urbanity of manners,
and had great pleasure in showing him and his lady all the lions of the
place. He seemed greatly to like our neat church and rural quiet
churchyard, and the very ground appeared in his view to be more than
ordinarily consecrated by the residence of the venerable Fletcher. He
gave me much interesting detail respecting Honduras, its church, its
schools, its people, and its minister; and of the last, he forgot not to
mention his difficulties, his battles, and his eventual successes. He
spoke also of his health, and described him (though perhaps he would not
in this respect receive any great superabundance of thanks for his
pains), as being peculiarly suited to bear all the labours of his arduous
post, and that a change of place, however it might recreate the spirit,
was by no means necessary for the continuance of his health. Now, I need
scarcely tell you that all this was very refreshing to my spirit. I am
not permitted to see you, and yet such have been the singular
circumstances which have brought me in contact with those who have long
lived in the Bay of Honduras, that I have been favoured with details
almost as lively and circumstantial as an actual visit could have
afforded me. And all the accounts strengthen in me the conviction that
my endeared friend is in his own real, identical, proper post—the one by
Heaven’s signature stamped with appointment and approbation too. May the
Saviour who has appointed and approved, still bind him to it by his
constraining love!
The colonel was very kind in his inquiries respecting William; I sent to
Mr. Thurgar for him, and the counsels he gave him were very affectionate
and appropriate. He left with him a sovereign when he parted from us.
He seemed particularly anxious for his welfare, and was very desirous of
gleaning everything encouraging that he might have the satisfaction of
communicating it to you—a satisfaction evidently very strong.
Last night, I received a letter from that very excellent and very pious
man, Mr. Francis Hall, who resided some months in my parish, as the
companion of the New Zealanders, and who went with them to New Zealand.
His whole conduct, while among us, left an indelible impression of the
genuine piety which so humbly but gracefully dwelt within him. Every
recollection of the dear good man is refreshing to my spirit. But I
wander from my point. I received from him, yesterday, a letter which
ought to make us all truly thankful that we have been providentially kept
here, instead of being suffered to go, as we had once intended, along
with himself or others to this inhospitable shore. He begins with
congratulating us on this point, and illustrates his congratulation with
such a narration of discouragement, connected with the state of the
mission, as would convince every unprejudiced mind that a family such as
mine has no business there. A time possibly may come when the signs may
become more favourable; but certainly they are most discouraging now.
I hope I am thankful to God, as the only source of our good, for the
state of things in my own parish. To say there was an outpouring of the
Spirit upon us, would be using language by far too strong, and yet some
gracious drops have descended—the dew has been resting upon us. Our
classes increase—the public means are better attended; our Sunday schools
are more than doubled, and a spirit of hearing generally prevails. And I
feel the more grateful for all this, as I have all along expected that a
seven years’ residence among them would produce a listlessness and
indifference bordering on satiety; but, though this term is now attained
within a few days, yet there seems no want of attention and no diminution
in interest. The hearts of the dear people are still given to me, and,
as such, they still bear with and love me. And if old things are said in
their hearing, they appear to come home to them with a new power, and
that power I would gratefully acknowledge is from above: to the grace,
therefore, of my Redeemer, I would ascribe the praise. And I do still
cherish a hope that, so long as he shall be pleased to continue me here,
he will graciously command that the barrel of meal shall not waste, nor
the cruse of oil fail; that neither matter nor unction shall be wanting
in my humble ministrations. Humble they, indeed, are and always will be:
the little treasure which I bear, is in an earthen, a cracked earthen
vessel. But I hope I am still content, so long as the excellency of the
power may be seen of God and not of man. Here, my dear friend, is the
grand point—we nothing; Christ all. Oh, blessed feeling! Never are we
so truly happy as when we most fully realize it.
We all unite in kind love to yourself and Mrs. A., and I remain,
My dear Friend,
Yours ever sincerely,
G. M.
* * * * *
The friend to whom the following extract of a letter to the editor
refers, was one whom Mr. Mortimer had strongly urged to turn his
attention towards the service of the sanctuary. The extract exhibits so
beautiful a picture of a good man that I cannot prevail upon myself to
omit it, and yet, not to offend the retiring feelings of the excellent
individual alluded to—he being yet alive—I suppress his name, though to
himself and some few of his friends the name will not be unknown. I hope
he will forgive me this wrong which I have committed for the sake of
others. In a note which the editor received from this gentleman,
forwarding to him several of the letters which he had received from Mr.
Mortimer, he says,
“‘In honour preferring one another,’ seemed to be one of his (Mr.
M.’s) constant rules of action. For myself, I may most unaffectedly
say, that while I feel grateful to God for the affection of such a
friend for so many years, I equally feel my own utter unworthiness of
such a privilege and blessing.”
“Two evenings ago, I received a letter from my excellent friend, —,
late of —. He has at length applied for orders, and was admitted
deacon, two Sundays since, by the venerable Bishop of Norwich. Mr.
Horne of Christ Church, Newgate-street, whose work on the Scriptures
you have no doubt seen reviewed, was admitted by the Bishop of London
three years since, and these two together with myself were a trio of
friends meeting in Mr. Butterworth’s class. Orders were at one time
the furthest from all our thoughts, and yet have we been gradually
led forward, and the third has at length joined us in the blessed and
honourable employ. I much regret that he did not break through his
snares and impediments when, about seven years ago, I strongly urged
him to the point; for he would then have not only spent seven more
years in the more immediate work of the sanctuary, but would have
saved himself many painful exercises and many severe losses.
* * * * *
“But oh, how I admire the man! If he shone in prosperity, how much
more in adversity! No murmur ever escapes him. He does, indeed,
glorify his God in the fires. His altered circumstances make no
alteration in the man, unless, indeed, they have induced greater
spirituality of mind, more complete deadness to the world, and more
unreserved surrender of all his affections and powers to the service
of his God. But here I am backward to speak; for he shone so
conspicuously before, that I find it difficult to determine which is
stronger of the two lights, both so strong that few could bear with
them a momentary comparison. Oh, may _our_ lights, my dear friend,
so shine in every alteration of our circumstances, that we also may,
like him, bring glory to our God!”
At the beginning of the year 1823, it pleased God to deprive the church
of the valuable labours’ of the Rev. John Eyton, Vicar of Wellington, to
whom Mr. Mortimer was exceedingly attached. About seven weeks before his
removal, he left home with the intention of wintering at the Isle of
Wight, but the weather becoming very cold he was obliged to remain at
Portsmouth. The children being all at home, he did not wish Mrs. Eyton
to accompany him; but a few days before his death, she received an
intimation that he wished to see her, and though she set off the very day
she received this information, she did not arrive till some hours after
his departure. In reference to this painful event, Mr. Mortimer, in a
letter to his sister, says,
“The death of Mr. Eyton has filled us with a degree of consternation
and surprise which I find it difficult to express. In what a
changing world do we live, and how many evils does that part of our
punishment “death” introduce among us. Prayer seems at present our
only refuge, especially with regard to his bereaved people. The
delicate and very difficult duty of preaching the funeral sermon has
been assigned to me: the flesh would dispose me to decline were I to
attend to its dictates; but I dare not listen. I owe so much to my
endeared and highly honoured friend, that I feel I must proceed. Let
me, however, entreat the assistance of your prayers.”
Some time during last year Mr. Mortimer was induced to undertake the
editorship of a monthly publication for young persons. He refers to this
engagement in the following letter:—