“At another time, the Rev. Mr. Gilpin perceiving a funeral waiting at the church gate, took the surplice and commenced the service; but he had hardly got into the desk when Mr. Fletcher, who had been visiting a sick person, came into the church, and gently drawing away a lad who was officiating in the absence of the clerk, took his place. After the service was ended, he observed that he could not bear to see the place of an inferior servant of the Church improperly filled up without attempting to supply it himself with a greater degree of decorum and reverence.
“Once, when my coat was dusty with riding, he insisted on brushing it, but objected to let me perform the same office for himself. Mrs. Fletcher, who perceived our contest, said, with a smile, ‘Then suffer me to do it; for I assure you, my dear, you need it as much as Mr. Horne.’ ‘If you please, my love,’ was the reply, ‘you shall do it, for you are a part of myself.’”[[580]]
“Some of these anecdotes,” says Mr. Cox, “may, at first sight, appear too trivial for publication; but they are highly descriptive of Mr. Fletcher’s general demeanour; and, as Rosseau observes, ‘The physiognomy does not show itself in great features, nor the character of a man in great actions. It is in trifles that the natural disposition discovers itself.’”[[581]]
While Fletcher was forming new friendships with young Nathaniel Gilbert and Melville Horne, his old friends were rapidly dying. His generous host, Mr. Charles Greenwood, of Stoke Newington, triumphantly exchanged mortality for eternal life on February 21, 1783, on which occasion Fletcher wrote the following to Mrs. Thornton:—
“Madeley, March 3, 1783.
“My Dear Friend,—Yesterday, I received your melancholy joyful letter as I came from the sacrament, where the grace of God had armed me to meet the news. And is my merciful host gone to reap the fruit of his mercy to me? I thought I should have been permitted to go first, and welcome him into everlasting habitations; but Providence has ordered it otherwise, and I am left behind to say, with you and dear Mrs. Greenwood, ‘The Lord gave and has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.’ The glory with which Mr. Greenwood’s setting sun was gilded, is the greatest comfort by which heaven could alleviate his loss. Let me die as he died, and let my last end be like his! I was so affected by your account that I could not help reading part of your letter at church in the afternoon, and desiring all the congregation to join me in thanksgiving for the late mercies God has vouchsafed to my generous benefactor. On such occasions, let sighs be lost in praise, and repining in humble submission and thankful acquiescence. I hope dear Mrs. Greenwood mixes tears of joy with tears of sorrow. Who would not be landed on the other side of the stream of time if he were sure of such a passage? Who would wish his best friend back on the shores of sorrow so triumphantly left by Mr. Greenwood?
“So Mr. and Mrs. Perronet are no more; and Lazarus is still alive! What scenes does this world afford! But the most amazing is that of Emmanuel crucified, and offering us pardons and crowns of glory!”[[582]]
Another letter, written three months after this, was addressed to John Valton, the Methodist itinerant, who preached at Cross Hall to the wedding party on the evening of Fletcher’s marriage.
“Madeley, July, 1783.
“Our dear friend’s acceptable favour gave us much pleasure, though we have been so long in thanking him for it.