one of the parishioners
said to me the other day, "to find coals to warm it with." It is
scarcely to be wondered at that under these circumstances, when the
living became vacant in the summer of 1856, there was no suitable person
to be found who was willing to accept so desirable a piece of preferment.
The parish of Wolstaston, of which I have the charge, and in which I
reside, is situated on high ground on the eastern slope of the Long Mynd,
_i.e._ exactly on the opposite side of the mountain to Ratlinghope. Above
Wolstaston the ground rises steadily for about a mile and a half till you
come to the unenclosed moorland, which stretches away for many miles of
open country, covered with heather and gorse. It was under the
circumstances that I have already mentioned that the living of
Ratlinghope was offered to me. I was aware that it would be impossible
to attend to the parish as one would wish to do, with four miles of this
wild hill country to cross between the two villages. Still, as no one
else could be found to take it, and I thought that the Ratlinghope people
might think that "half-a-loaf was better than no bread," I consented to
accept the living, and do the best I could for it; so I altered my second
service at Wolstaston from three o'clock in the afternoon to six, which
enabled me to give an afternoon service at Ratlinghope every Sunday.

I soon found, however, that the task I had undertaken was no very light
one, as the only access from Wolstaston to Ratlinghope was by mountain
tracks, over the highest part of the Long Mynd, unless indeed one drove
round the base of the hill, a distance of at least twelve miles. The
ride was pleasant enough in fine weather, but less enjoyable when fogs
hung heavy over the hill, when the tracks were slippery with ice, or when
falling snow concealed every landmark. It not unfrequently happened in
winter, when the snow was very deep, or much drifted, that it was
impossible to ride across the hill, and the expedition then had to be
performed on foot; still I always managed to cross somehow, in spite of
wind or weather, so that during the last eight years and a half the
little mountain church has never been without one Sunday service. I find
that during that time I have crossed the Long Mynd (in round numbers)
nearly two thousand five hundred times; consequently my knowledge of the
country became so intimate, that I felt equally at home upon the hill in
all weathers, and at