“My Dear Sir,—I have had a pleasant journey as to my body, but an unhappy one for my soul. Everything required that I should cry without ceasing, ‘Lord, be merciful to me a sinner!’ but, alas! I have not done so. The fine weather invites me to execute a design, I had half formed, of making a forced march to spend next Sunday at Everton, Mr. Berridge’s parish. May the voice of the Lord there be heard by a poor child of Adam, who, like him, is still behind the trees of his stupidity and impenitence!
“If I do not lose myself across the fields before I get there, and if the Lord is pleased to grant me the spirit of supplication, I will pray for you, until I can again pray with you. Don’t forget me, I beseech you. I would fain be with you on those solemn occasions, when a thousand voices are raised to heaven to obtain those graces which I have not; but God’s will be done!
“Don’t forget to present my respects to the Countess. If I continue any time at Everton, I shall take the liberty of giving her some account of the work of God in these parts; if not, I will give it her in person. Adieu.
“John Fletcher.”[[61]]
Strange scenes had recently been witnessed at Everton and in the surrounding country; and it is not surprising that Fletcher was desirous of seeing what the hand of God had wrought. His visit was a memorable one. On arriving, he introduced himself to Berridge “as a new convert, who had taken the liberty to wait upon him for the benefit of his instruction and advice.” Berridge, perceiving he was a foreigner, asked what countryman he was.
“A Swiss, from the canton of Berne,” was the reply.
“From Berne! then probably you can give me some account of a young countryman of yours, John Fletcher, who has lately preached a few times for the Messrs. Wesley, and of whose talents, learning, and piety, they both speak in terms of high eulogy. Do you know him?”
“Yes, sir, I know him intimately; and did those gentlemen know him as well they would not speak so highly of him. He is more obliged to their partial friendship than to his own merits.”
“You surprise me,” said Berridge.
“I have the best reason for speaking of John Fletcher as I do. I am John Fletcher.”