2s 
guide than Paget ; for the warnings of fatigue cannot safely be 
disregarded, and yet we may learn from that marvellously patient 
and noble life, that a courageous spirit may prevent feeble health 
from wrecking a useful life; and that if regard is paid to the 
warnings of a tired mind, work certainly prolongs life, and is the 
surest means of insuring peace and happiness. 
I shall close these remarks, already drawn out at too great a 
length, by citing a most remarkable instance of the sense of 
fatigue, in its acutest form, being overcome by a brave, indomitable 
spirit, and, thus, a valuable life being preserved. 
All of you have heard of the mountains of South-West 
Shropshire, and you who are geologists have visited that region in 
search of the lowest fossil bearing deposits. Of this group of 
hills the highest, and most extensive in length and breadth, is the 
Long Mynd. Its summit is a wide expanse of table land, the 
highest part of which is nearly 1,700 feet above sea level. It is 
nearly ro miles long, varying in breadth from three to four miles. 
Church Stretton at the foot of the hills is rapidly growing in favour 
as a health resort, and I can personally testify to its invigorating 
breezes, and its charming scenery. Towards Shrewsbury on the 
North, the ascent is a gradual one, but on the South-East, or 
Stretton side, it is wild in the extreme. Running through it are 
deep ravines, with precipitous sides, at the bottom of which runs 
a small stream of water, cold and pure. It is recorded that at 
different times many people have lost their lives amongst these 
hills, and the record is perpetuated by such names as “ Dead 
Man’s Beach,” ‘“‘ Dead Man’s Hollow,” and the last fair held at 
Church Stretton before Christmas is known locally as Dead Man’s 
Fair, because several men have perished whilst attempting to 
return home across the hills in the dark November night. 
The Rev. Donald Carr, the Rector of Wollaston, a small 
parish near Church Stretton, used to conduct a service every 
Sunday afternoon at Rattlinghope, a small mountain church on 
the opposite side of the Long Mynd, and separated from Wollaston 
by four miles of wild country. Previous to this last terrible 
experience Mr. Carr had crossed the mountain over two thousand 
times, and knew every inch of the road so well, that fog, or mist, 
or snow, did not deter him from paying his regular visits to 
Rattlinghope. All the week preceding January 29th, 1875, snow 
fell heavily, and lay in deep rifts, completely obliterating all the 
footpaths across the hills. Mr. Carr must have been a man of 
extraordinary physique and indomitable spirit, for despite all 
warnings he started on his weekly visit to minister to this handful 
of people on the hills. His journey proved more difficult than he 
had expected. The snow, which was very soft, was up to his 
‘ knees, and the drifts so deep that he could only cross them by 
crawling on his hands and knees. After the service, not waiting 
