“Miss Perronet and her mother[[489]] are as kind to him as my dear friends at Stoke Newington were to me when I lay sick there. His mind is quite easy; he is sweetly resigned to the will of God.”[[490]]
At Montpelier, Fletcher overtaxed his strength; and at Lyons, on his way to England, wrote as follows to his sick and dying friend, whom he had been obliged to leave behind him:—
“Lyons, April 6, 1781.
“My Dear Friend,—We are both weak, both afflicted; but Jesus careth for us. He is everywhere, and here He has all power to deliver us; and He may do it by ways we little think of: ‘As Thou wilt, when Thou wilt, and where Thou wilt,’ said Baxter: let us say the same. It was of the Lord you did not come with me: you would have been sick as I am. I am overdone with riding and preaching. I preached twice in the fields. I carry home with me much weakness and a pain in the back, which I fear will end in the gravel. The Lord’s will be done! I know I am called to suffer and die. The journey tires me; but, through mercy, I bear it. Let us believe and rejoice in the Lord Jesus.”[[491]]
Three weeks after this, Fletcher preached in City Road Chapel, London, and, the next day (April 28), set out to the hospitable home of his friend, Mr. Ireland, at Brislington. At this time, one of the Methodist preachers, stationed in the Bristol circuit, was Thomas Rankin, who had spent nearly five years in America, and who, in 1778, had been driven home by the American rebellion. Hearing of Fletcher’s arrival at Brislington, Rankin went to visit him, and wrote:—
“I had such an interview with him as I shall never forget. I had not seen him for upwards of ten years. His looks, his salutation, and his address, struck me with wonder, solemnity, and joy. We retired into Mr. Ireland’s garden; and he began to inquire concerning the work of God in America. I gave him a full account of everything that he wished to know. During this relation, he stopped me six times, and, in the shadow of the trees, poured out his soul to God, for the prosperity of the work, and for our brethren there. He several times called upon me, also, to commend them to God in prayer. This was an hour never to be forgotten. Before we parted, I engaged him to come to Bristol, on the Monday following, to meet the select band in the forenoon, and to preach in the evening. During the hour he spent with the select band, the room appeared as ‘the house of God, and the gate of heaven.’ At night, he preached from, ‘We are bound to give thanks alway to God for you, brethren beloved of the Lord, because God hath from the beginning chosen you to salvation, through sanctification of the Spirit and belief of the truth.’ The whole congregation was in tears. He spoke like one who had but just left the converse of God and angels. The different conversations I had with him, and his prayers and preaching, during the few days he stayed at Bristol and Brislington, were attended with such effects upon me, that, for some months afterwards, not a cloud intervened between God and my soul, no, not for one hour. Of all the men I ever knew, I never saw such love to God and man, such deadness to the world, such entire consecratedness to Jesus, as in him. It often appeared to me that his every breath was prayer and praise. He lived more like a disembodied spirit than a human being.”[[492]]
When at Marseilles, on his way to Switzerland, in March, 1778, Fletcher wrote a long letter,[[493]] to Miss Bosanquet, on Christian Perfection, and respecting his unpublished Essay on the New Birth. Miss Bosanquet replied to that, in a letter dated August 30, 1778. Strange to say, this letter was not put into Fletcher’s hands until nearly three years afterwards. During this interval, there seems to have been no correspondence between him and the lady who was speedily to become his wife. On his return from Switzerland, he wrote her the following, which is now for the first time published:—
“Brislington, near Bristol, May 1, 1781.
“Dear Madam,—Your kind favour dated August 30, 1778, having been mislaid in a drawer and forgotten, did not come into my hands till this morning. I hope my speedy taking of the pen, to acknowledge so unexpected a favour, will atone for the forgetfulness of my friend.
“You speak, Madam, of a letter from Bath; I do not recollect, at present, your having favoured me with one from that place. Is it my lot to be tried, or disappointed in this respect? Well, the hairs of our heads, and the letters of our friends, are all numbered: not one of the former falls, not one of the latter miscarries, without the will of Him, to whose orders we have long since fully and cheerfully subscribed.