His excellent and much-loved sister, Mrs. Holland, wrote to me as follows:—“The early, close, continued, and personal acquaintance you had with my dear brother, constitute you, in my opinion, his most suitable biographer.” And his brother, the Rev. Thomas Mortimer, wrote to me in a similar strain:—“On the very day that I received your letter, I was fully intending to write to you, _entreating_ you _not_ to abandon your design of writing a memoir of your dear departed friend, my beloved brother George. _You_, above all persons I know, are the man to undertake that work of love with any prospect of a successful issue. Your own correspondence with him, through such a long series of years, would alone furnish rich matter, I doubt not, for a biographer.” Thus urged and encouraged, I was unwilling not to do my best: and if I have proved myself but an unfit steed to draw such a chariot, the friends, at least, of my dear departed friend must not forget that it was they who put me into it; and this same consideration also will, I hope, lead others to view the faults and imperfections of the work with indulgence. Happily for me, the work is one rather of selection and compilation than of original composition, and the life of my friend will suffer less from the hand that draws it up, by reason of his speaking chiefly for himself; his correspondence is, perhaps, his best memoir, and this is the kind of life that it falls to my lot to prepare of him. The attentive perusal of his letters for publication has most vividly brought to my mind and remembrance the man whom, I can truly say, I loved almost as my own soul; very delightful was our intercourse with one another when associated together, very close was our intimacy, and warm and stedfast our friendship: and the great point of union between us, the connecting link in the chain of our connexion, was our common, and, I trust, unfeigned faith in Christ crucified for the salvation of mankind. We were neither of us originally destined for the service of the sanctuary; but it pleased God, early in life, to call us to the knowledge of himself, and to inspire us with an ardent desire to preach that gospel to others, who had ourselves been made personally sensible of the deliverance brought to the soul by it. Through God’s good providence also it was that we were both led to the same retired and secluded village of Chobham, in Surrey, where, under the instruction of the Rev. Charles Jerram, then curate of the parish, but since successively vicar of it, and Rector of Witney, Oxon, we received the finishing part of our education preparatory to our college course; and up to the time of our leaving the university, we were personally, as well as cordially, united, in no ordinary bonds of friendship, few days passing without our meeting together. From that time our personal intercourse may almost be said to have ceased; he spent a week with me in my first curacy in Bedfordshire,