Much of the Vicar's time was occupied in visiting the sick. He would show himself intensely grieved if he were not at once apprised of any illness, and as he preached so much on the far outskirts of his parish--ten, twelve, and sixteen miles distant--the calls were many. Whenever they came he was ready. On the bitterest winter's night he would give his unfailing answer through the window to any messenger, "_I will be with you immediately_"; and through storm or frost he set off at once to give the comfort of his presence and the power of his prayers. With supreme disregard of personal need, Fletcher was never happier than when he had given away every penny in the house. He religiously avoided debt, paying ready money for all he had, but when due claims were met he loved to pillage the household resources for the benefit of his sick poor. Whether _he_ had any dinner mattered little, but delight seized hold upon him when his helpmate was discovered in the preparation of delicacies for his parish invalids. Mrs. Fletcher would often take some article to his wardrobe and find the drawers almost swept clear of linen. Others, he thought, had needed the garments more than he. A poor widow called one day to pour out a story of difficulties with which she found herself burdened. Money there was none at the moment, but the Vicar was not to be cheated out of this new chance of helping another. Striding into the kitchen, he laid hands upon the pewter dishes, of whose polish Sally Lawrence was so proud, and handed them to the widow with the remark that "a wooden trencher served better." Day by day, indeed, John Fletcher lost himself in the needs and spirit of his Master, finding in his increasingly clear view of God, his ever more intimate fellowship with Christ, abiding treasure and keen delight which were beyond even his power of felicitous expression. It was in keeping with his hourly experience that he exclaimed in a letter to Lady Mary Fitzgerald :-- "Who are we, my lady, that we should not be swallowed up by the holy, loving, living Spirit, who fills Heaven and earth? Whether we consider it or not, there He is, a true, holy, loving, merciful God. Assent to it, my lady, believe it, rejoice in it. Let Him be God, _all in all;_ your God in Christ Jesus. What an ocean of love to swim in-- to dive into!" CHAPTER XXIII. "GOD IS LOVE!" In spite of its beautiful situation, Madeley was wont at times to be swept by a malignant fever, which carried away many of its victims to the grave. Shortly before the visit of Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher to Dublin, such a visitation had occurred, the faithful Sally being attacked by it, and nursed to convalescence by mistress and friend. Two years later it became Sally's turn to play the part of nurse, for Mrs. Fletcher, who had visited two parishioners who were dying of the pestilence, was herself stricken.