Thornhill, near Toronto, Upper Canada,
Jan. 4, 1841.
My much endeared Friend,
How can I convey to you the heartfelt satisfaction, which I received in
perusing your most truly welcome letter? My many infirmities will
_hardly_ admit of my complying with your request of an early reply; for I
have only written one letter, I believe, for many months past, and that
with extreme difficulty; and I have no expectation of being able to
finish this without sundry rests and postponements. But I am desirous of
making the attempt, and indeed should feel myself altogether unworthy of
so endeared and estimable a friend were I to place _his_ letter among my
unanswered accumulations, or avail myself of the filial aid of one of the
amanuenses to whom, on especial occasions, I am constrained to have
recourse.
But while I allude to the circumstance of difficulty connected with
writing, I ought not, I suppose, to pass on to other matters, without a
few words of explanation. About a year and half ago, I suffered sundry
strains and contusions from a fall, from which I have never yet quite
recovered; and though I feel no positive pain, when I am perfectly at
rest, yet when I use my shoulder or the muscles connected with it, in any
continuous operation, I am sure to suffer; and, whenever I imprudently
and pertinaciously persist, I feel the effects for days, weeks, and even
months. A habit of caution therefore, has crept upon me; and having at
no time possessed any strong predilections for the labours of the pen,
and especially for the duties of the correspondent, I have, at length,
almost persuaded myself, that I am fully released from the obligation.
I am reluctant to fill my sheet with reference to myself, and yet I ought
not to withhold from you the yet further allusion to infirmities. Long
have I been failing in my health, and long have my ministerial duties
proved too great a call on my general strength, and especially my nervous
system; but I still feel reluctant to retire from them. My wife and
children were indeed repeatedly striving to bring me to the point, and
represented to me the desirableness of withdrawing before such an attack
should be experienced, as would render the residue of life burdensome to
myself, distressing to my friends, and useless to all. Still, I
shrunk,—it seemed almost an awful thing to retire from duties so solemnly
undertaken; and from which none but God could release me. In this state
of uncertainty I was seized with so violent a nervous affection, while
engaged in some public but unimportant matter, that I lost, in the course
of few minutes, all power to read, and could not for some days make out
the very commonest words without spelling them just like a child; and
though, as my nerves acquired a little more tone, I was enabled to
recover somewhat of my suspended powers, it was not till several weeks
after my seizure, that I was enabled to appear again in public duties;
and then I could merely _preach_, not _read_. But this resumption of my
duties gradually brought on such oppressive, not to say alarming,
symptoms, that I, at length, felt fully convinced that my poor weakly
frame was no longer able to bear such onerous duties; and having, through
God’s mercy, obtained an assistant, who exactly suits both myself and
people, I have turned over to him my yearly stipend with every public and
oppressive duty, and am now rector indeed in name, but little further: I
visit, indeed, parochially, and am endeavouring in various little ways,
to counsel, regulate, and forward the movements of others, and to be a
bond of union to the somewhat heterogeneous mass around us; and the
silent intercessor for their diversified good, when it is not in my power
in any other way to aid them. And I trust, that God is still among us as
a people. As to other things, the kind interest which you have ever
taken in my welfare, makes me wish that you would just introduce
yourself, if only for a few minutes, into our midst. I could not have
believed that so much comfort awaited me in my latter days. Pecuniary
means quite adequate, not only for necessaries, but for extensive
comforts; a commodious, elegant, and tasty abode, close and open carriage
for summer, a cutter and sleigh for winter &c.; estimable society, and
superior by far to most neighbourhoods in the province, within two hours’
easy drive of the capital (Toronto), and this well and even luxuriously
supplied. No lack of literature. I see the best books, and have access
to, or take in myself, the most approved periodicals and newspapers,
almost to overpowering. And all this, when I derive no income from my
ministry (excepting the pittance from letting the glebe of my rectory),
and having no aid, as in England, from pupilizing; so great are the
advantages of residing in this fine province. In England all was
struggling and difficulty, and no possibility of settling my family;
while here, I am enabled to call every reasonable comfort around me, and
to live in a style, not indeed of ostentation and display, which has
never been my aim, but of comparative ease and comfort, such as calls for
many an expression of grateful praise. The earlier part of my residence
and ministrations in this place were not indeed over abundant in
encouragement, and I had frequent thoughts of relinquishing my apparently
hopeless charge, and escaping from my comfortless location. But my way
never appeared to me so satisfactorily opened as to authorize the final
step, and truly thankful am I that I continued. For three or four years
past all has been encouraging, and I cannot but regard the spot in which
I hope now to end my days, as one of the most eligible and pleasant,
which this fine country can present. The visit paid to us by Mr. B. L—,
and to which you allude in your letter, was in the very midst of our
discouragements, and most affectionately did he sympathize with us. A
few months after his return he expressed similar sympathy in the letter
he wrote to me, which quite made me smile, as descriptive of scenes and
feelings which seemed to have reference to “the lang syne;” so completely
had our circumstances amended. But when, in a subsequent letter of a few
months later date, his mind seemed only able to dwell on the same
mournful scenes, and we had got fully established in our comfortable
abode, with all our numerous satisfactions around us, and at the same
time enjoying abundant proofs of our being deeply and firmly seated in
the affections of our attached people. Thus circumstanced . . .
March 25, 1841.
THUS far, my endeared friend, had I written nearly three months ago, and
then abruptly terminated my operose endeavour, effected at four different
sittings, and at length laid by, almost in despair. But through God’s
mercy, I am beginning again to use my pen with far less of annoyance;
and, after having despatched three short letters, on the three last days,
and being tolerably sound after the operation, I have looked out my
suspended communication, and have no small pleasure in resuming.
The non-completed sentence will, I suppose, speak for itself, the
intention being simply to assure you that, though possibly you may have
heard through Mr. B. L—, of our being surrounded by nothing but
_desagrémens_, we are, in fact, some of the most delightfully located
persons in the province—perfect joy and satisfaction—a paradisaical
blessedness—a very elysium of delight. Unfortunately, however, for my
description, it was written in January instead of March,—the provinces
since united—seat of government removed—radical elections—a fearful
preponderance of rebel abettors—destructives and liberals—our beloved
Church threatened—the Papacy fearlessly exhibited, and giving but too
much reason for anticipating its eventual triumph, and Protestant
Episcopal subversion. All around us gloomy, and full of dismal
forebodings; and our only hope (if the Divine Disposer be overlooked) in
the detrusion from office of those Whigs, who so vexatiously retain their
places at home, and not content with liberalism, and bringing into
jeopardy England’s every good, are carrying with a yet higher hand their
destructive and church-subversive measures in its colonies. Such, alas!
is the present aspect of our horizon! But as to myself, I am happy to
say that it does not much trouble me. It is indeed not a little cloud
which hangs over us, but dark and far-spreading; and yet I cherish hope
that it will soon blow over. We have had our direful threatenings
before, but God has dealt very mercifully with us; and I trust that
similar mercies are now also in reserve.
But I am hardly leaving myself room to say a few words on other matters.
Greatly did it rejoice me, my endeared friend, to follow you in your most
pleasing recital of the numerous exhibitions of God’s mercy and
faithfulness to yourself and family, and I have no question but that in
many respects you will see yet greater things than these;—yes! all is
well—much of spiritual good has been reaped by my beloved friend. He has
gone forth bearing precious seed, and even here has come again with joy,
bringing his sheaves with him.
April 21, 1841.
MUCH to my mortification, I was unable, as I had wished, to finish my
letter, when I added the few lines about a month ago; but that slight
effort brought on a return of my disability, and obliged me to be again
quiet; and, were I to consult the suggestions of prudence, I should not,
I believe, now venture on a few lines which I am desirous of appending by
way of conclusion. But I am so thoroughly ashamed of both my apparent
neglect, and the fussiness attendant on my endeavours to write to you the
letter I have done, that I can keep my sheet by me no longer, and, though
I seem to have many things to say to you, I must content myself with the
assurance, that with unabated affection, and with every good wish for
yourself, Mrs. C—, and family, in which Mrs. M— most sincerely unites, I
have the pleasure to subscribe myself,