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.