The last letter addressed to his fondly attached sister, Mrs. Holland, was written in a broken manner, and was probably among the last, except on mere matters of business, which he ever wrote. I have myself seen but one other written after the date which this bears, and which will be noticed presently. TO HIS SISTER. Thornhill, April 6, 1844. AM not dead, dear Mary, but increasingly abhorrent of the epistolary—it’s no use scolding—quite inveterate. [After entering more minutely than usual into family details, he adds,] Self alive again—marvel greatly—though an old man, still two full services on the Sunday—no assistant—do all the parochial—visit not a little from house to house, more regularly and systematically than has been my wont—never felt my duties less onerously—peaceful dependent, and more hopeful—more power to cast my burden on another, and find my Redeemer mighty—oh never fails—so faithful, condescending, kind. Sorry, oh sorry, that deafness has appeared; but could Brother G. heal as well as sympathise, he would soon show, by its immediate removal, that blundering affection, instead of the wisdom of love, which marks mortals’ wishes and decisions; but, dear Mary, it’s more than compensated. May that blessed Christian grace of patience have its perfect work! Am a middle man still—hate Dissent, but never preach against Dissenters—love the men, but greatly deplore the evils of the whole system—therefore budge not from my long wont—a real Churchman I hope still, but neither ultra high, nor ultra low. And now, dear Mary, adieu—your letter has shamed, has lovingly shamed me, and therefore have written something. Kindest love from all to all. Yours as ever, G. M. * * * * * The day before his death, Mr. Mortimer addressed a long letter to his brother, the Rev. Thomas Mortimer, full of interest and full of kindness, and which, no doubt, will be treasured up by him with great care and affection; but it is of so personal and domestic a tenor, that it is only a single short extract that I can with propriety insert in this memoir, though nothing could be more appropriate, as a conclusion to his correspondence. June 14, 1844. * * * * Of myself a word or two will suffice. Though old and grey-headed, my God forsakes me not; but graciously imparts a gleam of sunshine in my latter days, which almost makes me marvel. I have just completed my sixtieth year, and, though encompassed, as ever, with infirmities, have for the last twelvemonth done full duty twice on the Sabbath. The flame yet flickers, and till it shall sink into total darkness, may it send forth some shining ray to enlighten the minds and change the hearts of my beloved Canadian people.