Читать книгу The Life and Letters of the Rev. George Mortimer, M.A - John Armstrong - Страница 23

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Wellington, April, 1813.

My dear Friend,

I have of late been obliged to give up all thoughts of missionary exertions; my present ministerial labours (small, alas! as they are when contrasted with the more extended operations of my dear friend) are a weight which presses very heavily upon my mind; they drink up all my spirits, and have so completely transformed me from the cheerful happy individual which I formerly used to be, that could you break in upon me accidentally and unawares you would hardly recognise me for the same. Ah, my dear friend, could I have foreseen these things, I should scarcely have dared to have encountered all the anxieties and perplexities attendant upon the ministerial office. I feel indeed that I have to sustain a burden; but there is one cheering consideration—it is the Lord’s burden; it is placed and appointed by him, and if patiently sustained, not only his glory, but my own eternal welfare, and perhaps that of others also, will be advanced. But if I feel the burden so great at present, how little am I cut out for so great a work as that which you have the honour and the privilege to be employed in!

In the service of the sanctuary there were hewers of wood and drawers of water. I seem to be of this description. But, though these individuals were mean and insignificant, compared with others, yet were they useful in their way; and, if God do but bless my labours, I trust I shall be content and be willing to be employed by him to the end of my days. I would gratefully acknowledge some of his gracious manifestations in this respect. Two individuals have, I trust, been savingly brought to the knowledge of God, and some few have, in other respects, been benefited. This is the Lord’s doing, and it is marvellous in our eyes.

But though my ministerial duties are thus oppressive, I have reason to be thankful in other respects. I have a dear wife, whom I tenderly love, and God has been pleased to present me, about three months since, with a sweet and interesting little son. He is healthy, animated, and vigorous, and proves to me a source of comfort which, I must frankly confess, I but little anticipated. I feel I have an important deposit placed within my hands; but I trust God will enable me to train him for the skies, and then all will be well. We have named him “Cecil,” after our trusty, excellent, and most valuable friend. I should have preferred to have prefixed in its stead that of my good friend whom I am addressing; but its length, as well as the number of consonants which compose it, render it as a Christian name somewhat harsh and sonorous.

Since I last wrote to you, I received a letter from our friend F—, of Trinity. It was the bearer of melancholy tidings; the cup of this excellent young man seems to be composed of sorrows peculiarly severe. He lost some time ago, as you will doubtless recollect, a tender father, under circumstances truly afflictive, and now he has lost his still dearer mother.

He heard, by letter, of her illness, rode to Inverness, where she then was, without the least intermission; but when he arrived, she was dead. The weight of this calamity upon his mind, together with the accumulated pressure of temporal and domestic concerns, have caused him to pass through deep waters; but God has given to them a sanctifying influence: you would be truly gratified at the genuine stream of piety which pervades the whole of his letter. It characterizes a real child of God.

I have lately been turning my attention towards botany. Should you ever be sending a packet to your brother, would you be so kind as to enclose me a few seeds of some of your choice and beautiful flowers; I mean those which are peculiar to your climate? You will favour me still further by affixing the names by which they are commonly known. If you have never amused yourself in this way, you will be surprised at the inexhaustible source of pleasure of which it is capable. I walked out with my Mary this morning through the adjoining country. We were pleased and exhilarated on various accounts; but our botanic pleasures were by far the greatest. Little, exquisitely tasty beauties were discovered by us, which before had completely escaped our notice; they lie before me on my table; and while I look at them, I am led to adore the Hand which so elegantly and ingeniously formed them.

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My best wishes and my constant weekly prayers attend you. I greatly love you—am tenderly concerned in your welfare, and shall always rejoice on being able to congratulate you on its realization.

From your ever sincere Friend,

G. M.

About the middle of the year 1814, Mr. Mortimer was joined by a coadjutor in the curacy of Wellington, of a kindred spirit with himself, and one with whom he seems to have taken sweet counsel, walking to the house and service of God as friends. This was the Rev. John King, already mentioned in the preface. In a letter to his sister, on the 3rd of June, 1814, is this short notice of the event just referred to:—“My dear friend King has joined us—he is beloved by all.” In another letter dated the 30th of the same month, he mentions his great attachment to Mr. King, their delightful opportunities of studying together, and that he esteems his coming under his roof as one of the greatest blessings ever vouchsafed. His intimacy with this gentleman was formed at the University; “being introduced to him,” as he mentions in a letter to the writer, “the very first evening of his coming to college, and we have,” he adds, “ever since remained in the closest bonds of union.”