Arrived at Nyon, he was pressed to occupy several pulpits. Crowds flocked after him from place to place, sinners were awakened, scoffers silenced, and many were brought to seek Jesus as the only Saviour. One aged minister besought him to prolong his visit, if only for an additional week. When assured it was impossible, he turned to Mr. Ireland with tears running down his cheeks. "Oh, sir," he exclaimed, "how unfortunate for my country! During my lifetime it has produced but one angel of a man, and now it is our lot to. lose him." The parting from these good people was almost overwhelming. Some of the multitude which gathered to say good-bye followed the carriage for over two miles, unwilling to lose sight of one who had brought them so near to God. More than ordinary welcome awaited him at Trevecca. Joseph Benson-- headmaster of the College, and Fletcher's biographer in latter days-- wrote of it thus:-- "He was received as an angel of God. It is not possible for me to describe the veneration in which we all held him. Like Elijah in the schools of the prophets, he was revered; he was loved; he was almost adored; not only by every student, but by every member of the family. "And, indeed, he was worthy. . . . Though by the body he was tied down to earth, _his whole conversation was in Heaven_. His _life_, from day to day, was _hid with Christ in God._ Prayer, praise, love, and zeal, all ardent, elevated above what one would think attainable in this state of frailty, were the element in which he continually lived. As to others, his one employment was to call, entreat and urge them to ascend with him to the glorious source of being and blessedness. He had leisure, comparatively, for nothing else. Languages, arts, sciences, grammar, rhetoric, logic, even divinity itself, were all laid aside when he appeared in the schoolroom among the students. His full heart would not suffer him to be silent. He _must_ speak, and they were readier to hearken to this servant and minister of Jesus Christ than to attend to Sallust, Virgil, Cicero, or any Latin or Greek historian, poet, or philosopher they had been engaged in reading. And they seldom hearkened long before they were all in tears, and every heart catched lire from the flame that burned in his soul.