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themselves indebted to His favour, and willing, at least so far as words go, to give Him the glory. I can hardly doubt, therefore, that the earth is sometimes parched and the crops endangered in order that the multitude may not want a memento to whom they owe them, nor absolutely forget the Power on which all depend for all things.' So wrote the tender-hearted, pious Cowper.

It was early in July this year, my Talking Friend told me, that the whole of Hanwood and Meole and the adjoining parts of the valley were thrown into a wild ferment of surprise, for a messenger had arrived at the rectory at Hanwood stating that old St. Chad's in Shrewsbury had fallen. For a thousand years this grand old church, notwithstanding many changes, had withstood all the shocks of time, and but for mistaken economy might yet have been standing as a whole instead of as a fragment.

Early in the summer the north-west pillar of the tower had shown dangerous cracks in it, and many of the congregation ceased to attend. The churchwardens then became alarmed, and sought the advice of a then rising architectMr. Telford--at that time patronised by William Pultenay, Esq., one of the members. Better authority could not have been, and he reported, say our historians of the town, 'that in consequence of graves having been heedlessly made adjoining the foot of the north-western pillar beneath the tower, that main support of the steeple had shrunk, and that the whole north side of the nave was in a most dangerous state, which was greatly augmented by the nearly total decay of the chief timbers of the roof; insomuch that the weight was almost entirely supported by the lateral pressure of the walls, in themselves extremely defective; and that the least additional outward spread might bring down the ponderous roof with scarcely a moment's warning. He recommended, therefore, the immediate taking down of the tower, that the shattered pier might be rebuilt, that the decayed timbers of the roof should be renewed, and the north-west wall of the nave secured.' Such was the advice of Telford, the afterwards celebrated civil engineer, whom I knew in his later days and visited with Mr. Rickman, his biographer, who tells us in a

racy note how the Parish Vestry exclaimed against the architect's proposals as too expensive, and imputed, if report be true, interested motives to Mr. Pultenay's protégé; upon which Mr. Telford left them, saying 'that if they wished to discuss anything besides the alarming state of the church they had better adjourn to some safer place where there was no danger of its falling on their heads.' The late Mr. William Harley, of Shrewsbury, the kind friend of my boyhood, told me this same anecdote; and he added that Telford spoke in his driest Scotch manner, and quitted the church, as a Scotchman would say, incontinently. For years after he became celebrated Telford retained a lodging at Shrewsbury, where he kept his mallet and tools and leather jerkins, saying archly, 'He never knew the day he might want them.'

Well had it been had his advice been taken, but it was not. On the contrary, 'the suggestion of a stone-mason was fatally listened to, who proposed to cut away the lower parts of the infirm pier, and to underbuild it with freestone, without removing or even lessening the vast incumbent weight of the tower and bells. This infatuated advice was unanimously approved. The attempt was made, and on the second evening after the workmen had commenced their operations, the sexton, on entering the belfry to ring the knell previous to a funeral, perceived the floor covered with particles of mortar. On his attempting to raise the great bell the tower shook, a shower of stones descended, and a cloud of dust arose. Trembling and in haste, he descended into the church and carried off the service books, and as much of the furniture as his alarm would allow him to collect. During the same evening a gentleman, while walking in his garden in the college, observed the cross and dome of the tower to be agitated by a constantly tremulous motion. On the following morning, July 9, 1788, just as the chime struck 4, the decayed pier gave way, the tower was instantly rent asunder, and the north side of it, with most of the east and west sides, falling on the roofs of the nave and transept, all that part of the venerable fabric was precipitated with a tremendous crash,' which, though it alarmed few of the inhabitants, was heard as far as the Old Heath.

As before stated, timely care would have saved this noble fabric, but it is with the people sometimes and churchwardens as Skelton says it was with the bishops of his day, who ran to their own houses,

Howbeit they let down fall
Their churches cathedral.

The whole town was alive to their merciful escape, and the 'Thursday in the following week was observed as a day of solemn thanksgiving, not by the parishioners only, but by the inhabitants of the town at large. The pious sentiment was much increased by a sensible and affectionate pastoral letter which the vicar printed and distributed among his parishioners. The shops were shut, all business was suspended, and a crowded and devout congregation attended him to St. Mary's Church, where he delivered an impressive and highly appropriate discourse,' well remembered by many in my youth.

The vicar here mentioned was the Rev. Thomas Stedman, appointed this very year to the vicarage of St. Chad's; and besides this sad welcome, he had much spiritual indifference to contend with

But when the greater malady is fix'd,

The lesser is scarce felt.

A most earnest and conscientious man was Thomas Stedman, belonging to what has since been miscalled the Evangelical School, and one whom I remember well as a child when at Mr. Case's school, which looked into the new churchyard. Job Orton had recommended him to Dr. Stonehouse, rector of Great and Little Cheveril, Wilts, where he numbered in his congregation the 'Shepherd of Salisbury Plain.' In 1775, Bishop Warburton presented him to the living of Wormington, Gloucester, and he witnessed that well-known prelate's declining powers. He died December 5, 1825, in the eightieth year of his age, universally beloved and respected, having outlived some hard words thrown against him for going to hear John Wesley in the Wesleyan meeting-house when he was last in Shrewsbury. He was not one to say, in opposition to the works of that holy and reverend man, notwithstanding the schism that ensued here as elsewhere

We are oft to blame in this,

'Tis too much proved,-that, with devotion's visage
And pious action, we do sugar o'er

The devil himself.

Might St. Chad's have been rebuilt? or was the same mistake committed as afterwards with St. Alkmund's? No doubt in these days the ancient fabric would have been restored, and we should have had the fine collegiate church again in the place of the present most unsightly building, more like a theatre than the House of God! It was unfortunate that Mr. James Wyatt, who was applied to, could not give his attention to the plans; even more unfortunate still that the plans of Mr. George Stewart, who had built Attingham and Lythwood, were adopted, at a cost of 19,3527.

However, the church was rebuilt, and that too in troublous times, for even already a storm was gathering in France, and with other incident throes

That nature's fragile vessel doth sustain

In life's uncertain voyage,

we had to feel its coming effects on this side the Channel.

It was on March 2, 1790, being St. Chad's Day, that the first stone was laid, and so ready were the people to build, irrespective of many hindrances and heartburnings, that the new church was completed in two years and a half, and consecrated August 20, 1792.

The whole valley, said my Talking Friend, went to the opening of it, and the last of the old Squires,' brother John, often officiated there, some of whose sermons, 'preached at St. Chad's,' are now before me.

CHAPTER XLVII.

THE FRENCH WAR.

Whom, we know well,

The world's large spaces cannot parallel.

Troil, and Cress. act ii. sc. ii.

King. Where is the crown? who took it from my pillow?
War. When we withdrew, my liege, we left it here.

King. The prince hath ta'en it hence :-go, seek him out.
Is he so hasty that he doth suppose

My sleep my death?

2 Henry IV. act. iv. sc. iv.

On April 15, 1770, George III. writes to Lord Weymouth, I do not choose to talk on business immediately on coming from the chapel on Sacrament days.'— Jepe, vol. i. 510.

It could not be said of him as Cowper wrote to Newton in October, 1783, 'It is ever the way of those who rule the earth to leave out of their reckoning Him who rules the universe.' — Works, vol. iv. 315; ed. SOUTHEY.

My thoughts are whirled like a potter's wheel :

I know not where I am, nor what I do.
1 Hen. VI. act. i. sc. ii.

It was towards the end of the year 1788 that mixed reports reached the valley of the Rea about the King's ill state of health, as it was first called, and then of the 'grievous malady' that had overtaken him, and the people said he had had overmuch on his mind, and had had too much to do; and it began to be whispered that, notwithstanding all the goodness and the tenderness of the Queen, the royal home had been made uncomfortable by disobedient children. Of the Prince of Wales they spoke in no very measured terms; but they wondered to hear that the Duke of York, so entirely beloved by his tender-hearted father, should have crossed his wishes and followed after evil courses, and cut him to the quick.

The visit to Cheltenham has been referred to before,

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