My much-endeared Friend,

I am quite ready to acknowledge my faults; and lest, through forgetfulness, I should in a similar manner offend in this instance also, I am determined to despatch my communication at once. You kindly allude to gratification received from this source in time past. Such hints coming even from an indifferent quarter, always frighten me; they make me fancy that something will of course be expected for the future; and knowing so fully the mere business-like strain in which I am generally accustomed to write, and my want of spirituality when I touch upon serious subjects, I have such a shrinking, not to say horror and dread of letters of mere friendship, that while intending to pay my just and lawful debts in this department, I keep insensibly postponing their discharge, till I fancy my answers would be out of date, and would fain sit down with a quiet and contented mind. Creditors, however, are those merciless kind of beings that it is no easy matter to escape out of their hands, and ever and anon some upbraiding or threatening communication appears in due form before me. Not, however, that I could be so wanting in urbane feelings, as to speak in such terms of Madeley despatches; they are, of course, the merest and most gentle of all mementos—all lapses of time are so graciously overlooked, and the most unblushing halts on the part of the most notorious offender are rather implied than expressed. You will therefore be kindly pleased to accept my most humble and grateful acknowledgments for such unmerited mercy; and hoping for ever to profit by such benignity, I now beg leave to conclude my lengthened exordium.

As you appear to have seen my good friend Y—, you have no doubt heard from him most of the particulars connected with my recent change. I do, indeed, most fully believe, that I am in the spot to which I have been most evidently directed of the Lord; and in respect to outward comfort and suitableness of employment, I suppose I should hardly find another situation equally eligible; but, after all, I cannot help regretting the termination of my Mary le Port engagements. Much kindness have I received in various forms from my Madeley people—much also, and most strongly expressed, from my temporary charge at Yardley; but I never seemed to live so fully in the hearts of any of my people as those, from whom unavoidable circumstances have so recently separated me. I am persuaded, however, that all is right both for me and for them; and if developing circumstances should not reveal this to the eye of sense, yet that faith which brings its luminous atmosphere around the results of cautious procedure and humble dependence will cheer the mind with its present assurance, till it shall conduct us to that world where, without the least shadow of a misgiving, we shall acknowledge that our guiding and gracious Saviour “hath done all things well.” My outward path has indeed, for some time past, been in many respects somewhat mysterious and painfully perplexing; but such are frequently the movements even of those who not only have the cloudy pillar to guide them, but who also are careful to follow its guidance. And, even allowing that ourselves have not thus followed with this undeviating step, still we have the privilege of penitent return; and, from whatever point we may retrace our wandering step, we see the same heavenly guidance before us, waiting to conduct us onward in the unerring way.

I feel much obliged for your interesting allusion to Madeley procedures; your dispensary, infant-school, and clerical meeting, have all of them, not only the approval of my judgment, but of my heart. . . . And therefore I do, in all respects, most sincerely rejoice that the kind and gratifying permission of which you speak was ever given to me. My fear, however, is, lest you should be doing too much, encouraged by that half-untrue and sadly delusive maxim, “Better to wear away than to rust away.” I would rather have you patronise that far more prudential substitute suggested by the biographer of Leigh Richmond, “I labour less that I may labour longer.”

I do indeed most sincerely rejoice with you in the blessed testimony afforded to you by your endeared and dying sister, to the faithfulness of our gracious and Omnipotent Redeemer. How few are the families where the leavening influence of true religion has been more extensively or more blessedly experienced!

We had not heard of the arrival of our Ceylon friends till your last reached us. Most truly rejoiced shall we be to be permitted to meet them; but the notorious offender has some draw-back to his anticipated pleasure—a four or five years’ halt keeps haunting his perturbed mind. Nor let your gifted men of punctuality smile, as they read these compunctious movements—these reiterated confessions,—lest our insulted spirits spring from beneath the ignominious tread, and, elate with all the consciousness of our newly acquired powers, hold ourselves in readiness to repel the charge and to retaliate the affront.

You have heard, I suppose, of my having taken three pupils to instruct with my own children; my time, as you can readily imagine, is far from sluggishly employed; my health, however, is, and has been for some time past, through God’s blessing, unusually good. Within the last three weeks, I have been a little threatened with a return of Madeley feelings, but this has been through attempting too much.

Our united and very kindest love attends Mrs. C. yourself, and family, and

I remain, my dear Friend,

Yours, ever affectionately,
G. Mortimer.