In the same month as Mary Bosanquet was cast out of her father’s home to commence life anew as a toiler for God, John Fletcher settled down to his work in the parish of his choice.

Madeley lies three or four miles from the foot of the Wrekin in a winding glen, through which flows the River Severn So far it was a place of beauty, but in no other sense The colliers and iron-workers of Coalbrookdale and Madeley were ignorant, brutal, and much given to drunkenness and profanity The Sabbath was ignored, decency frequently flouted, bull-baiting a favourite pastime, and religion a matter of coarse ridicule and bitter scorn. After their day’s work the inhabitants frequently held nights of revelry, lasting until dawn, when dancing, drunkenness, and obscenity reigned supreme.

Fletcher commenced his campaign with great earnestness and zeal He had no idea of contenting himself with preaching to a handful of feeble folk twice upon a Sunday; he counted every day lost if he had not in it brought some of his people face to face with the requirements of God In cottages, at street corners, or in the church, he held a service just as often as he could gather sufficient people together; he visited the public-houses, and even appeared at the midnight carousals, warning men of the wrath of God, and urging them to flee to Jesus for mercy.

The parishioners of Madeley grew decidedly uncomfortable They desired nothing so much as to be left alone, and the influence of this new parson was a force with which they found it necessary to reckon. They grew to dread the sudden opening of their tavern and dance-room doors, and the appearance of the pale, pure-faced man, whose eyes glowed like coals, and whose words burned and stung as he rebuked sin.

They were not used to being continually confronted with the claims of God; they did not relish the urgency with which Fletcher insisted upon conversion rather than church-going They turned upon him in public; they maligned him in private; they disturbed his informal meetings; they cursed his name. One thing they were bound to do, however, they respected his courage and goodness, and that alone was sufficient eventually to turn the tide.

It was a lonely time for Fletcher. He was a young man, with no companion; he was of cultured mind, and greatly missed some kindred intelligence and friendly spirit with which he might commune of the things which pressed upon his soul Little wonder that his heart should turn towards the sweet-spirited woman whose face dwelt in his memory with gentle persistence. He looked upon the idea of marriage, however, as a snare to draw his thoughts from his work, and he fought it down as something unworthy of his high calling.

“I am driven to the Lord,” he wrote to the Countess of Huntingdon, “and He comforts, encourages, and teaches me The devil, my friends, and my heart have pushed at me to make me fall into worldly cares and creature snares . . . but I have been enabled to cry, ’Nothing but Jesus and the service of His people,’ and I trust the Lord will keep me in the same mind.”

Fletcher lived with the utmost frugality, for some time doing without even a servant, and taking his meals at a neighbour’s house An idea of his simplicity of life may be gained from a story told by one who was at a boarding-school at Madeley which Mr. Fletcher frequently visited:—­

“One morning he came in just as the girls had sat down to breakfast He said but little while the meal lasted, but when it was finished he spoke to each girl separately, and concluded by saying to the whole, ’I have waited some time on you this morning, that I might see you eat your breakfast; and I hope you will visit me to-morrow morning to see how I eat mine.’ He told them his breakfast-hour was seven o’clock, and obtained a promise that they would visit him Next morning they went at the time appointed, and seated themselves in the kitchen Mr. Fletcher came in quite rejoiced to see them On the table stood a small basin of milk and sops of bread Mr. Fletcher carried the basin across the kitchen and sat down on an old bench He then took out his watch, laid it before him, and said, ’My dear girls, yesterday morning I waited on you a full hour while you were at breakfast; I shall take as much time this morning in eating my breakfast as I usually do, if not rather more. Look at my watch!’ He immediately began to eat, and continued in conversation with them. When he had finished he asked how long he had been at breakfast They said, ’Just a minute and a-half, sir.’ ‘Now, my dear girls,’ said he, we have fifty-eight minutes of the hour left,’ and he then began to sing—­

“Our life is a dream!
Our time as a stream
Glides swiftly away,
And the fugitive moment refuses to stay.

“After this he gave them a lecture on the worth of time and the worth of the soul. They then all knelt down in prayer.”

CHAPTER XI.