The Life and Letters of the Rev. George Mortimer, M.A., by John Armstrong

Mr. Mortimer and his three sons set sail on the 11th of June, 1832. He gave an account of his passage to America, of his reception in Canada, and of his first impressions and expectations there, in the following letters to Mrs. Mortimer.

TO MRS. MORTIMER.

Aug. 6, 200 miles from a Port.

June 12th, Tuesday, 9 o’clock. Driven from the cabin by disposition to sickness, I write on deck on one of the hen coops. Last night all of us fell giddy and beginning to be squeamish—took the brandy in sips and all were immediately relieved.—Herbert also lost his head-ach. Our nightly abode was, I confess, an uninviting concern. When I lay down I seemed as though I should be suffocated and was obliged to rise up in haste, but soon got reconciled, and managed, at last, to get off and slept pretty well till five. The wind has been favourable ever since we sailed, the captain in good spirits, nothing could be better. At nine, yesterday evening, we cast anchor; the captain, in consequence of the haziness of the weather, being afraid of proceeding, lest, not being in open sea, he should run foul of land; we resumed operations, however, between two and three. The ship remaining stationary was the cause of the close and confined sensations which we had on getting into our berths at night; for when the vessel is in motion there is no want of fresh air and no feeling of oppression. I am again, my dearest Mary, on deck. I have just been humming over three or four times my favourite verse,

“O may I ne’er forget,
The goodness of the Lord;
Nor ever want a tongue to spread,
His loudest praise abroad.”

Ah! we called upon him in our trouble, and he hath delivered us out of our distress: we could, therefore, “praise the Lord for his goodness and for his wonderful works which he showeth to the children of men.” I had scarcely finished writing the contents of the first side of my sheet, when the wind began to veer round, and blowing from the west with great violence, the ship heaved and rolled to such a degree, that the whole of the passengers, without exception, were taken so suddenly and so distressingly ill, that they were obliged to dash, as quickly as possible, to their beds—no time for undressing, and none, of course, for arranging our little alleviations and preventives against sickness. Our party were all differently affected, but all suffered much for about twelve hours. Arthur was quite unconscious of what he did—Cecil occasionally incoherent—Herbert very quiet, but at times greatly suffering. Indeed, I had serious thoughts, whether we should ever recover; but I lay musing, and praying, and casting the weight of my oppressed spirits on my covenant God in Christ Jesus, and soon had a most blessed state of peace.

Sunday, June 17, 12 noon. We have just had service on deck—an interesting scene, and seemingly not unacceptable to the auditors, who, in pleasing and attentive groups, were lying, or rather sitting, round me. We had three or four good singers. Hymn,

“God moves in a mysterious way.”

Text, Gen. xii. 1. The deck presents quite a Sabbath scene, most of the men either reading or quietly sitting. God openly honoured. Wind greatly against us, out nearly a week and only 200 or 300 miles from land; but I have no restlessness, indeed scarcely a wish; peace more than usual. On deck we fared but badly, the spray besprinkled most in their turn. One wave, more unmannerly than the rest, drenched the mate, soaked the captain, and soused myself and Cecil and Herbert. We shook ourselves as well as we could, and sat quietly till we were dry. The mate says he has been thirty-one voyages and. never knew such rough weather at this season of the year. In the evening, all was calm and we ate in quietness, and with good appetite, a meat supper, followed by biscuit and cheese, and supported by our good bottled porter.

TO MRS. MORTIMER.

Brig Active, August 13, 1832.

This day week, I forwarded to you by the ship Science, Greenock, three letters, written at different times during our voyage. After reading my third it seemed so vapid and uninteresting that I determined to discontinue my journal, and, of course, my extracts from it; for, though many things seem interesting to us in our isolated and pent-up situation, yet, when soberly reviewed, they amount to a mere nothing. As, however, we are now approaching the shore, I am desirous of having a letter nearly finished that I may forward it as soon as possible after our arrival, should it please God to permit us to reach the much longed-for shore. The last week has been one of much anxiety and perplexity to most of the passengers. The ship we spoke with told us we were out in our reckoning, and this communication proved but too true. We thought we were within 200 miles of land, but it then appeared we were distant between 500 and 600. Our provisions and our water had already begun to fail, and many on board had been reduced to very short allowance. Judge, then, of the feelings which prevailed when our actual distance was ascertained. The Science, indeed, spared us half a barrel of flour, but what was this for our increasing necessities? The privations, therefore, have daily become greater, and, to such a degree has murmuring and dissatisfaction prevailed, that a mutiny by many is daily expected. The Lord, however, is in this, as in everything else, the all-sufficient God, and he will still continue to protect and to bless us. And, indeed, since I last wrote to you, we have had many and most striking instances of his watchful and paternal care. On one occasion we were exposed to the most terrific storm of thunder and lightning, which we had ever witnessed, and its nearness was so great, that we appeared in immediate danger of being shattered to pieces. Upon the most accurate calculation, it was at one time only a quarter of a mile distant, and if it had actually passed over our vessel, loaded so extensively with iron, the consequences would, in all probability, have been fatal to us all. During the last week we fell in with the fog, and one of the West India Island hurricanes, terrific and awful beyond previous conception: it must be witnessed to be fully understood. Towards its close I ventured upon deck, and truly thankful was I to learn that no damage had been sustained, no mast shattered, not a single leak sprung. Some, indeed, attributed this to the tightness and excellence of our fine little vessel, overlooking the goodness and faithfulness of our God. Ah, how it grieves me to the heart to see the loving-kindness of our God so generally lavished upon us in vain! But the confinement of a ship calls into exercise almost every latent quality of the mind; the secrets of hearts are indeed most fully revealed, though the exhibition is by no means gratifying. In many respects, however, it is useful, and I feel very thankful for it as it regards our little party. Habits and dispositions have unfolded of which I had scarcely the least idea, but which discovery will materially influence me as to the steps which should be taken in reference to my future movements and the eventual disposal of my children. We are now, I believe, about 100 miles from land, and it is well that we are no more; for most of our comforts have failed us in the cabin, and we are brought under allowance as to water, and they speak of this as to other provisions; so that we manage, as you may suppose, but badly; and were we to continue much longer in our present state, I fear that our health would materially and even permanently suffer. But we make the most of what remains, and keep cheering ourselves with the hope that it will not be for long: the wind, however, is far from favourable, and we proceed with great slowness. Nine weeks to-day have we been out at sea—I should rather say, since we set sail—and few calculated upon a longer time than five or six weeks; so that it is not surprising many among us are beginning to suffer. But, as I mentioned, hope sustains us, and the God of love and mercy will, in his own good time, extricate us out of all our troubles.

Delaware River, August, 1832.

We are at length, dearest Mary, through the good providence of God, brought about midway up the river on which the city of Philadelphia stands; but, in consequence of the cholera still prevailing there, we shall be obliged to perform a short quarantine of two or three days in a place about twelve miles on this side of it, and after that we may possibly be detained, previous to our passing the Custom House, for a day or two longer. In less than a week, however, from the present time we are hoping to proceed to New York, and thence on our Canada journey. Like the great Apostle we should thank God and take courage. Many have been his tender mercies towards us, and I feel a calm and blessed power to resign all the future into his hands. We have just passed a most beautiful village (Newcastle), built completely in the English style; but everything now is so fresh and novel that we view it with tenfold interest. We are all, thank God, in very good health, and the cholera has considerably abated at New York. I should hope we are running no risk in proceeding in our intended line, and, indeed, no prudence would be any sufficient safeguard, for I hear that it has spread to very many of the surrounding places, and therefore there is no possibility of getting entirely out of its way; but that God, who directed our steps through the United States, will, I am confident, preserve us. I have been reading twice with great attention a small work of Dr. Granville, which has thrown great light upon my mind, both as to the origin, treatment, and prevention of the disease. It was given by Mr. Grant to Arthur, and I consider it quite providential that it was thrown in my way.

Philadelphia, August 22.

And so, my Mary, through the mercy of my God, we are brought at length to the long-wished-for shore, and the thrilling feelings of pleasure which we experienced as we stepped once more on land were half delirious—it seemed scarcely a reality. In a short time, however, the delirium of joy subsided into a most delightful state of peaceful gratitude. We came here yesterday afternoon, and soon began to reconnoitre; passing from street to street in rapid succession, and for the first time since I left England I was thoroughly tired, but at the cost of my poor bleeding toes, which were so sore that I could hardly put on my shoes, but on they went, and a little after five I awoke our party to proceed on fresh adventures. The first exploit was in the captain’s boat, which he kindly lent to us, and a fine rowing we had across the Delaware to a small island near the State of New Jersey, where three of the young people enjoyed a most delightful bath. On our return to breakfast such a scene of rapacity was exhibited as would have astonished even an indulgent and ever apologetic mother. The captain had previously talked of a good blowing out, but now we experienced it. Your half-famished eldest son has, I think, taken precedence, but we were none of us far behind him, with such relish did we apply to the abundant and novel and delicious fare which was set before us.

TO MRS. MORTIMER.

York, Upper Canada, Sept. 21, 1832.

Nothing as yet has been determined respecting myself. The bishop was absent on a long tour of visitation, but I obtained a letter of introduction to Archdeacon Strachan, through Captain Fitzgibbon; and His Excellency the Lieutenant-Governor, Sir John Colborne, having heard of my arrival, expressed a wish that I do wait upon him. Both he and the archdeacon behaved with great kindness, and mentioned places which they thought desirable; but I wait for the advice of the bishop, to whom I have written on the subject. I am disposed, however, to fix on Hamilton, a rising village near Ancaster, beautifully situated, and bidding fair to become the third town in the province, York and Kingston only taking precedence. No church, indeed, is as yet built—service is performed, in the Court House—but one is fixed on. My salary will be £100 sterling, a rectory house, forty acres of cleared land, besides some—I forget the quantity—uncleared, and the sum I may obtain by letting the pews. The Governor and his lady are both truly pious. I dined with them on Tuesday and spent a most pleasant evening. The archdeacon is uncommonly friendly; our whole party took tea with him on Saturday evening, and I have called on him since.

TO MRS. MORTIMER.

Thornhill, near York, Oct. 8, 1832.

I do not wish to raise your expectations in any improper way, but I still think I ought in justice to say, that I think you will be tolerably pleased with the situation in which I have been led to settle. There is, indeed, no fixed salary, and perhaps nothing beyond £40 or £50—the sum given by the congregation—may be obtained by me. But the Bishop and Governor both expect that I shall receive from the clergy reserves £100 more, and, if so, this £150 will be very fair. As to the distance (only thirteen miles from York) it has a decided preference over Hutton, and the society is in my estimation far superior, and mostly English. The church is small, but the attendance good, far more than the Hutton average. They appear also quite pleased with my coming, as my predecessor, though a learned man and a great orientalist, had no aptness for parochial engagements. I forgot to mention that the spot and neighbourhood is considered most healthy. If the young folks are desirous of seeing their future location, they may look into a map of Canada, and they will see a road leading from York to Simcoe Lake, directly north; this is called, George Street Road, each side of which is cleared for the space of two or three fields. It is on this road that Thornhill is situated. I intimated in my last letter that I had some thoughts of building a house to be ready to receive you on your arrival, but you will be glad to hear, that I have entirely given up all idea of it; it never will do, at least for me, and therefore I have made my continuance here depend on the trustees of Thornhill Church, allowing me £40 or £50 per annum, and their providing me at a moderate rate a house suitable for my family, some time before the 10th of June next, 1833, at which time, through God’s blessing, I hope to see you all here. And surely he will preserve you; not a box, or package, or anything has been lost, everything brought safe over the perilous ocean and the intervening space, and shall not the same faithful God of love preserve my Mary and all her accompanying charge? I will, therefore, trust, and not be afraid.

I received a message from the Governor last night, in which he tells me, I may depend on having the £100 he mentioned to me. He is peculiarly kind and a great blessing to the province. The people seem very desirous of detaining me; Messrs. — assure me that some house sufficiently large shall be provided.

TO MRS. MORTIMER.

Thornhill, near York, Nov. 4, 1832.

To-day, dearest Mary, when I arose, I found the first snow lying on the ground, and, as the thermometer now indicates, that we are fast approaching our Canadian winter. I have staid at home to-day to get matters more fully in order, that I may meet it as pleasantly as I can. A few days previously I quitted my cold, smoky sitting room, and took up my quarters in my favourite bed room, removing into it my books, boxes, and in fact everything, except the chairs and one table, which I have left below to receive company when they shall honour me with their visits; which, in spite of my bachelorship, and the non-attractions of my place, they feel themselves bound in courtesy to do. Think not, however, that I freeze my visitors, for I too well remember the cold rooms into which I have been ushered myself, while in England. Mrs. Crosby, therefore, has received a strict charge to keep up a fire from ten to five, and when visitors are expected a semi-mountain of logs is added to the pile. My bed room has been greatly improved by nailing up three of the bedding wrappers (and which, for the purpose, I found a most invaluable treasure), against three of the windows, so as to exclude all the searching, piercing, cold winds and air, which, I hear, penetrates so bleakly when the winter fully sets in; for this aforesaid bed room of mine has no fewer than four windows; for the Canadians, not being taxed for their lights, think they can never have enough, and hence we are broiled in summer and frozen in winter, as the concomitants of our delectable liberty. I have now, therefore, as you will perceive, only one window remaining; but this is quite enough, and you would join me in my conclusion had you to-day seen the snow forcing its way by some unaccountable means through some imperceptible apertures, so as quite to wet some clothes which for a few minutes I had incautiously placed under the window. My removal to the bed room was the day before yesterday, and the two last nights were the only two in which I slept comfortably. I got an extra blanket that was of no perceptible benefit; a second counterpane was added to the weight of the superincumbent clothes, but not apparently to the warmth: I then slept in a pair of silk stockings; but these also, though the best of all my auxiliaries, were not adequate, and I was therefore obliged to put over these a pair of my worsted warm socks; but even then I had a chilly feeling towards morning. Since, however, I have been sitting constantly in my room, and have had a fire there, and a good one too, all the day long, lighted before I rise, and left burning with renewed logs when I go to rest: with all these helps and adjuncts I do now exceedingly well, but what I shall do in the real winter I know not. Now the thermometer is not lower than 20° or 25° below freezing point in the night, but then it is frequently 10° or 12° below zero, and once last year it was 29° below it. Perhaps I shall have recourse to the Russian fashion, and sleep with the feather bed over me, or between the blankets, but even then, poor nosey and its neighbours will receive no benefit, and the gentlemen, I suppose, will complain of the injustice done to them, while all the other parts are so cozy, and they are left to bounce against the icy formations produced by the moisture from the breath; but, as little Herbert would say, we must breathe, and so poor nosey and company must take their chance. I think I have not, as yet, alluded to one of the chief Canadian annoyances, the amazing prevalence of the house fly. All places swarm with them, and the most respectable persons, who feel the annoyance greatly, quite despair of getting rid of them. In a few days, however, I effected a clearance, and afterwards only a comparatively few stragglers made their appearance, which were daily removed; and this must be done, if you would have any comfort. I took up a volume in boards at a lady’s here, which had been lying on its side on the shelves, and when I touched it it was so rough with the abundance of their excrement, that I wondered what kind of excrement it was covered with, till I examined and discovered the cause of the evil. Gauze or muslin covers most of their things, but as to the mass of them, they are filthy beyond endurance; and then the creatures keep buzzing about you incessantly, and keep you in a continual fidget with their intolerable tickling. Then, again, they almost cover your plate while you are eating, and as to indulging in a siesta, that is impossible. If a loaf of bread is left uncovered a short space, its surface is so eaten as to appear quite grated; and all other articles are laid by them under similar contribution, though it may not be quite so discernible. I guess that my Mary will be equally zealous with myself in attempting this clearance.

Mr. — has just been here; he is one of the trustees of Thornhill Church. To him and his associates the Governor has this day made over 600 acres for the use and benefit of the minister out of the clergy reserves. These they will perhaps exchange for half the number of acres near the church, situated on the George Street Road, and when the exchange shall be effected, they will proceed with the house. You have heard about the long and still unsettled disputes about the Clergy Reserves. In Mr. Pitt’s administration, a certain portion of the land was reserved for the clergy in each township; but the Presbyterians of the Scotch Church and the other denominations have lately put in their claim, and since the litigation commenced, nothing has been done, no lands, in any case here, I believe, have been assigned. His Excellency wrote to Lord Goderich, and has just obtained from him permission to assign lands to such clergy as at present are just being fixed in their respective districts. Sir John is now acting upon this permission; some lands belonging to the clergy reserves have been sold to form a fund, in hand, and out of this he builds the parsonage house. We are much indebted to the Governor, Sir John Colborne, for his perseverance, without which no adequate provision for ministers of our church could have been made, for none of our congregations would hear a word about contributions as long as there was a chance of the clergy reserves being obtained.

Oh, how glad I am, my Mary, we came here, instead of going to the United States, and that the good providence of God directed us to this country. Depend upon it, we shall never regret the step we have taken, every day convinces me of its expediency, in every point of view. May the same God of love who brought us safe and directed us, as the pioneers of our little party, bless, preserve, and keep those that remain, and bring you through every perplexity and trial to this land of his peculiar smile.

TO MRS. MORTIMER.

Thornhill, Nov. 8, 1832.

I have for the last two or three weeks been expecting another letter from Locking, and supposing that it would contain various things which I should like to touch upon in reply; but, as the roads keep me at home for a day or two, I am unwilling to let this state of leisure pass by. Yesterday, I returned from York, having been conveyed there and back by the kindness of a lady in this place, the weather just held up for the time. Had we been a day later it would have been terrific work, but I live in hopes his Excellency the Governor will mend the great north road on which Thornhill stands. Sir John has commenced operations both in the town and neighbourhood of York, and his success there encourages hope in this, though the sum to be raised for the purpose is £20,000. My reception among the great in York was gratifying—the condescension and kindness of all parties quite surprises me. My abode was at the hospitable bishop’s, who in this, as well as in all other respects, is a truly Christian bishop: he pressed me to lengthen my stay, and was almost hurt that I did not comply. His chaplain is a true Christian, and of very pleasing manners. When he found that Arthur was residing in York, he offered me his kind attentions on his behalf, and before I left he mentioned him also to the bishop. I was much struck with the pious solemnity with which he put the licence for Thornhill into my hands; it seemed a real committal of souls to my charge, so different from the matter-of-course transactions which I had in all other instances witnessed. Sir John’s party I joined in the evening, dinner six o’clock, not much in this respect to my liking; but everything else connected with the visit most agreeable. He has received permission from Lord Goodrich to proceed with the projected plans for settling the clergy, and he tells me he will make the commencing trial with myself. When it is more fully and definitely known to me, I will report to you; but what I gather at present is, that he will give me as incumbent 300 acres of land, forty of which shall be cleared at his expense, and a suitable house erected; and he thinks all can be done with ease for your reception, on or about the 10th of June. He does not promise me a salary, but, till this be accomplished, the bishop will try to give me at the rate of £100 per annum. He however cannot engage. The people promise me £50 per annum: they are very kind to me, and show me the greatest attention. The congregation increases, and though I am not forward to speak upon such subjects, I do feel that the situation is important, and the Lord has much work for me in this place. My heart also is in some measure in my work; I feel it blessed; its former anxieties and oppressiveness are astonishingly removed, and thus the Lord has at length granted unto me what I almost regarded as impossible; so that the anticipated wilderness has been made to smile and blossom as the rose—the peace and blessedness within having shed its transforming influence all around. I had often read the 45th of the Madeley Hymns in reference to the future, but I little thought how completely it would be realized. The hymn begins with, “That man no guard or weapon needs,” and the last three verses you will perhaps excuse my transcribing—

“His love possessing I am blest,
   Secure whatever things may come;
Whether I go to east or west,
   With him I shall be still at home.

If placed beneath the northern pole,
   Though winter reigns with rigour there;
His gracious beams would cheer my soul
   And make a spring throughout the year.

Or if the desert’s sun-burnt soil
   My lonely dwelling ere should prove,
His presence would support my toil,
   Whose smile is life, whose name is love.”

Many of the Irish Protestant clergy are coming out in the spring, with large quotas of their flocks, driven out as they are by the violence of those who refuse to pay the church tithes. I met one of this description the other evening at the bishop’s, a warm-hearted and spiritually minded Irishman; his details were most affecting, but highly interesting, and I thought I could see a striking providence in their being thus compelled to flee at this present time to a country where they were so particularly needed, and where their own temporal comforts would be so materially increased. The good bishop quite rejoiced over his anticipated treasure.

TO MRS. MORTIMER.

Thornhill, January 18, 1833.

* * * The delight of a warm bed the Canadian can fully appreciate. The other morning the thermometer stood 18° below zero, or 50° below freezing point, and during last night I conceive it must have been much lower: it is now near the middle of the day, and the glass is only 1° above zero, and yet, difficult as you may feel it to credit me, it seems to me a mere nothing. I can hardly imagine that I am in the midst of a Canadian winter, that horrible and terrible of previous anticipation: the fact is, that the severe weather only lasts for two or three days at a time, which is far different from a continuous season of four or five months, and though sharp and searching in itself, yet fire, clothing, and due attention, bring all to a common English temperature; and then the air is so cheering and bracing that you smile cheerily, rather than feel oppressively. But, in reality, I can hardly proceed in my description, not for want of words but of ink; for it not only freezes in the ink glass while on the table, but after I place it on the hearth and thaw it, the pen-full freezes while I am writing; so that I am obliged to stop ever and anon to thaw it in the pen, and yet with this acme of congelating miseries, I smile and laugh and go battling on; but all this sounds worse than it really is, so do not be alarmed.

ON EMIGRATION.
TO MRS. MORTIMER.

I feel somewhat puzzled as to what I ought to say with regard to emigration. As to agriculture, employment can easily be procured in the upper province, and the wages are good; but the state of destitution in which some of the families arrive is very distressing, and keeps them back for a considerable time. I cannot recommend any family to come out unless they have £9 a head for each individual. It happened to one young man who had paid £1. 15s. for his passage to Quebec, and yet with one and another charge he had only a few shillings left out of £12. At Kingston I heard of a family of emigrants whose baggage was sold by auction to enable them to find the money to proceed to the agricultural districts. If emigrants can proceed with their baggage, and a few shillings in their pockets, they soon feel thankful for their altered circumstances. As to the two men and their families, I must leave it to your decision, and to influence them as you judge best. If they come, it should be as early as possible: leave England in February and get to Quebec in March.

TO MRS. MORTIMER.

Thornhill, Jan. 18, 1833.

As to emigration I feel at a loss what to write. There is in fact hardly a man living but in some way or other may succeed in this fine country, and yet there is scarcely a man who may not fail and suffer disappointment, so that I dread recommending; but were I in the condition of nineteen out of twenty, I would make every effort to come out. Most have to rough it for about a year; few need do this much longer; that is, if thoughtful, prudent, and moral: their wilderness soon begins to smile, and comforts one after another crowd around them. I must turn to my log-book for something to say on this score.

“Of all settlers the medical profession seems to have least encouragement; they are worse off than even ministers; for in this country the population is so scattered, and the roads so impracticable, that they slave and toil beyond all endurance for a scanty pittance, and finding so small a remuneration, they are obliged to merge their professional engagements into those of the largely cultivated farm. Should they speculate on more extensive practice and larger returns in some of the towns there, so many have anticipated them, that they half starve before they can get into practice, and, after paying dear for their rashness, are compelled to return to the country, and to rough it like others in employments for which their previous habits have but little qualified them. Another evil is that all the three branches are here united, there not being a sufficient call to admit of a division; and then, again, we are all so healthy, excepting, indeed, the whiskey drinkers, who die by inches, but who have no peculiar penchant for bitter drugs; so that had it not been for the cholera, which so extensively visited us, I fear the medical gentlemen must have had no great cause to congratulate themselves on their speculations. The best description of settlers are young persons with or without families, married or single, who can command about £1000 in cash, and have about £80 or £100 per annum, on which they can regularly calculate. These can purchase a fair quantity of land in cultivated districts, where there is good society and English comforts; can build their house ample, commodious, and well-looking; and can realize from their farm what will enable them to live as gentlemen. I know two or three families of this description, in this neighbourhood, who have freely exhibited their finances before me, and they are just what I have noticed above. And if these do well, much more those whose income is larger. Such are the settlers we most need, for improvements follow so fast in their train. Capital and taste are in their case combined, and their respective neighbourhoods start into notice and comfort.”

As to young men of the more respectable order, they must be willing to go into trade, and in this they have abundant encouragement, not so much in specific trade as in the keeping of stores, both wholesale and retail, and to such they give a salary for five or six years, and then either take them into partnership, or else set them up in some country store, furnishing them with goods on easy terms to begin with. Farming will not do for young men of this description, till they are of age to farm for themselves, and then they may begin, if they have a small capital to purchase land and stock it. They want very little of any previous training; the advice of some friend or neighbour on the spot is quite adequate, if he be of any tolerable capacity. As to settlers I can say little beyond what I have intimated before. With £10 or £12 a head, they need not hesitate a moment. The principal thing is raising sufficient money to bring them far enough into the country, and without this it is almost cruelty to say a word to induce them to leave England.

To finish these remarks on emigration, from one who knew what it was from his own experience, I shall add one other short extract from a letter dated Feb. 21, 1835, addressed to Mrs. D. Whitmore:—

But with all this improvement in society and literature, the matter of emigration puzzles me more than ever. Produce is sadly falling; my wheat I sold last year for 4s. 3d. a bushel; the same sample would now fetch only 2s. 6d., and all other farming produce of course in the same ratio. Farmers, therefore, are crying out that they shall now be ruined. Stores also abound so greatly, that a very small profit can be obtained, where competition is so great. Fortunes, therefore, are not, as they once were, so easily procured; and most classes of emigrants are sadly disappointed. Those who come out with ample means will easily succeed; for living is so cheap, and capital wanted, and amply remunerating interest in various ways obtained. But then, again, those who already have fortunes, or ample means, will mostly prefer the good old country, and well they may.

TO MISS E. FORD.

Lockport, State of New York,
May 1, 1833.

My dear Madam,

It was very unexpectedly but most joyously that I received your kind communication respecting the sailing of the Bristol, [196] and I lost no time in leaving Thornhill for New York. I am now on my way thither, and hope to find a few leisure intervals during my journey to fill my sheet, reserving merely a small space for a postscript, that I may communicate, should all be well, the tidings of the safe arrival of the endeared party: they have much occupied my thoughts of late, and, sometimes, with too much of anxious solicitude, for which I have as often felt reproved; for such has been God’s mercy to us hitherto, that it is not merely infirmity, but positive sin to be distrustful of his faithfulness and love. I feel much indebted to you and Miss Ford, for your peculiar kindness to my dear Mary. I am never surcharged with feeling, I wish it were my habit; but still great kindness quite affects me, and as requital will be ever out of my power, I must look to the beneficent and faithful retributor above, and would give vent to the utterance of my heart in the language of the holy and grateful apostle, “The Lord grant that you may both find mercy of the Lord,” and especially “in that day.”

Your kind present of the newspapers, &c., will be very acceptable, and yet, perhaps you are hardly aware of the extent of either our political or literary information. We have two monthly magazines published in York, and three or four newspapers, and from New York we have two weekly newspapers, designed expressly for English readers—the Albion and the Emigrant, full of English news and English literature; so that in a month or six weeks, we have all the cream of the London and country news, as well as the best of the lighter articles from the British periodicals. The Edinburgh and Quarterly Reviews are reprinted at two-thirds of the English price; also the Christian Observer, and other standard and monthly and quarterly works. Messrs. Harper, also, in New York, reprint the best of the English works in the Family Library, at three and sixpence each, executed like Murray’s, and their series amounts already to fifty-three volumes. Another series is furnished by Lee and Carey, at Philadelphia, and a third of a religious sort at Boston; so that in a few months, when I can spare a few pounds, I hope to be able to furnish my family with an extent of literature far beyond my capabilities in England. Among my own congregation we have also a book society, well supported and well supplied; we are, therefore, not a little chagrined when your boasting Englishers think of us as in a semi-barbaric land of literary destitution: for we not only feel ourselves a part of the great nation, but regard ourselves on nearly an equal footing as to the comforts and luxuries, while in many respects we feel that we have the most decided advantage, so we warn you not to treat us either politically or personally with scorn.

On the day I left York, government despatches had just arrived, which announced the dismissal of our two Crown Officers, the Attorney and Solicitor General, owing, it is supposed, to too great freedom in debate in our House of Assembly—the ferment it excited was almost ludicrous—“delenda est Carthago” was emphatically pronounced. The Whig Ministry must be annihilated. The province, though hardly prepared for such a measure, must at once be severed—such despotism could not be endured. I acted, as I generally do on such occasions, as pacificator, and smilingly quoted the well known lines of old Dr. Byron, in the conclusion of his Bedlamite—

“Kill your enemies’, kill a fool’s head of your own,
They’ll die of themselves, if you let them alone.”

It is whispered also that our excellent and deserving governor (Sir John Colborne) has not escaped censure; this I am truly grieved to hear, for his services cannot be too highly estimated, and our province is indebted to him beyond all expression. I fear, however, that his removal is not very remote; he is too pious, and too tame a politician, to give satisfaction to the administration at home; but my contracting limits oblige me hastily to conclude, and to assure yourself and Miss Ford how truly I remain,

Yours, gratefully,
George Mortimer.

P.S. June 6, New York. Yesterday the dear party arrived all in health and safety. Never did I feel more truly thankful.

TO THE REV. THOMAS MORTIMER.

Rochester, State of New York,
May 2, 1833.

* * * * * * * Your fame, my frater, has long ago reached this far distant province, and I ought gratefully to acknowledge that it has, in more instances than one, proved the passport to gracious and kindly reception. It was to this, I think, that my boys were principally indebted for the footing they obtained in Kingston, and many other little turning points of good are pleasingly associated in my mind with the high estimate and kind feeling, which has been cherished towards you as a minister, or an author. Once, indeed, it appeared rather the precursor of evil; for our good bishop, previous to my introduction, fancied that I was the actual man; the great Mr. Mortimer himself, the author, the distinguished preacher in London. And many a congratulation had he cherished within, to think that he had obtained so goodly a fish in his Canadian net. “Then you are not Mr. Mortimer from London, the author.” “No, my lord, his brother.” “Oh, only his brother!” was the consolatory adjunct; and the dismayed little man was left in his own littleness, unpatronized, unbefriended, to make his own way; and to this day is, in all probability, reaping the bitter fruits of the unhappy prepossession; for, though his self-complacency keeps him from concluding, that his diocesan regards him as a mere blank, yet he cannot but be aware that the rich prize still remains in the wheel, and which he had fondly imagined had been proclaimed as his very own.

My ministerial matters, however, notwithstanding this inauspicious commencement, are pleasingly progressive. My salary has been fixed by our good governor at £100 per annum; £20, or £25, I obtain from the rental of pews; a house is provided for me by my congregation, free of expense; arid I have a promise of some good glebe land, which, in a few years, will be of considerable value. My people are kind; ministrations seemingly acceptable; church and expositions well attended; temporal matters encouraging; living cheap; and two tolerably advantageous purchases secured for the children; so that the good hand of the Lord appears to be resting upon me. Indeed, never for a moment, that I recollect, have I repented of my step since I have been here. Once or twice, during our voyage, “when no small tempest lay upon us,” when the raging billows seemed on the point of ingulphing us, so great did my responsibility seem, as connected with the immortal souls of my little unprepared party, that I almost wished that I had never ventured on the perilous step. But, never for a moment, since our arrival here, have I had the least cause to retrace; and my only regret is, that I did not proceed before. But, perhaps, all is right, as to time also; and, indeed, when I glance upon some few of the deterring circumstances which intervened to retard me, I cannot doubt but that these also were from the Lord; that the deed, the time, the place, have all been under the direction of an agency superior to our own; and what a comfort does this assurance impart!

I forgot to mention, in my last, how much I felt obliged to Mr. Hartwell Horne, for the sundry introductions, and other tokens of kindness, which his parcel conveyed to me, just on the eve of my departure from England. Be so obliging as to convey to him my sincere thanks.

As to tuition, I have, I believe, myself altogether done with it. Hundreds of pleasant hours has it, in various ways, procured me, and during some few of the weeks I have been in Canada, have my classical studies been resumed with peculiar interest. This, partly for their own sake, and partly as a preparation for any opening that might arise in the college, or elsewhere. But I have now taken my final leave, not in dudgeon, nor with painful regret; but in calm surrender to the will of a superior power. Dear King, was, I think, in his kind and affectionate counsel in the matter, quite wrong; such employments are not so much my duty as my snare. The scales have at length fallen from my eyes, and though I cannot say, I can now see clearly, yet I see enough to convince me that, for the residue of my short life, I ought to give myself wholly to my one grand and absorbing avocation. Let, therefore, collegiate honours be sought and enjoyed by others. With these altered views, perhaps, were I permitted to gain the ear of an endeared relative, whom you well know, I should whisper certain cautionary monitions in reference to similar points; for though from his endeared lips the confessed “weakness of his heart” has had a charm and a persuasive influence which won my full approval, yet now that the syren notes can no longer bewilder me, I see, as in my own case, the snare rather than the duty, and the couplet of the almost forgotten Dryden, in which he cautions the aspirant parson, chimes in with my own overlate, but salutary musings:

“Those who contend for place and high degree,
Are not his sons, but those of Zebedee.”

Whisper, then, in my stead, in some auspicious moment, to this endeared individual what I am so desirous to convey; but mind that you whisper it in tenderness and love.

But my sheet is filling up so fast, that I have hardly left myself room to assure you of the interest which I still, and I hope, ever shall feel in all the concerns—personal, domestic, and ministerial—of my endeared brother. His opportunities of leisure are so few, that I must not often expect any direct communications, but whenever conveyed they will be most grateful. Accept then yourself, and convey to our dear mother, Eliza, and all your beloved family, the sincere and warmest love of your ever attached brother.

George.