Fletcher's correspondence was an unusually heavy one; his letters make quite as spiritual reading as his sermons, yet he gave the choicest of reasons for _not_ writing to one man who expected a letter: "Tell Mr. Keen," he wrote to Whitefield, "I am a letter in his debt, and _postpone writing it till I have had such a sight of Christ as to breathe His love through every line_." Many pearls of thought were contained in these epistles; while the advice in them was quaintly put, it was always helpful, and never hurled at random. "Your dulness in private prayer," wrote he to Miss Hatton, "arises from the want of familiar friendship with Jesus. To obviate it, go to your closet as if you were going to meet your dearest friend; cast yourself at His feet, bemoan your coldness, extol His love to you, and let your heart break with a desire to love Him. Get _recollection_ --a dwelling within ourselves--a being abstracted from the creature and turned towards God. For want of such a frame, our times of prayer are frequently dry and useless; imagination prevails, and the heart wanders, whereas we pass easily from recollection to delightful prayer." To the same person, however, he recommended the cultivation of a wholesome naturalness in religion which would ensure acknowledgment of its beauty in those around her:-- "There is no sin in _looking cheerful_. '_Rejoice evermore_'; and if it is our duty always to be _filled with joy_, it is our duty to _appear_ what we are in reality. I hope, however, your friends know how to distinguish between _cheerfulness_ and _levity_. "Beware of stiff singularity in things _barely indifferent_: it is _self_ in disguise; and it is so much the more dangerous when it comes recommended by a serious, self-denying, religious appearance." It is evident from a glance at his correspondence that Fletcher's extremely frugal habits and large generosity to others gave not a little anxiety to those who loved him. A wealthy merchant of Bristol, named Mr. Ireland, a constant, true, and close friend, sent him a parcel of broadcloth as a gift, beseeching him kindly not to send his coat again to be patched. His thanks were thus concluded:--