Such was one of the services which Fletcher, “one of the finest writers of the age,” had rendered to Wesley’s preachers and people as early as the year 1774. They had been in danger of departing from the truth, or, at least, stumbling at it: by Fletcher’s help, they were confirmed in the Christian faith, and henceforth earnestly contended for it. As already seen, in 1773 Mr. Richard Hill had extended to Fletcher the olive branch of peace; and now the Countess of Huntingdon seems to have done the same. Three years before, she had virtually dismissed him from her Calvinistic College at Trevecca, because he would not renounce what were called the “_horrible and abominable_” doctrinal “Minutes” of Wesley’s Conference in 1770. Since then, he had been incessantly employed in explaining and defending these “Minutes;” and, in every instance, had vanquished his opponents. Her ladyship, with her strong-mindedness, seemed to perceive this, and wished to have an interview with her disbanded president. She was staying at Bath, and through James Ireland, Esq., of Bristol, the intimate friend of both, her wish appears to have been conveyed to Fletcher; who, in reply, wrote to Mr. Ireland as follows:— “MADELEY, _February 6, 1774_. “MY DEAR FRIEND,—In the present circumstances, it was a great piece of condescension in dear Lady Huntingdon to be willing to see me privately: but for her to permit me to wait upon her _openly_ denotes such generosity, such courage, and a mind so much superior to the narrowness that clogs the charity of most professors, that it would have amazed me, if everything that is noble and magnanimous were not to be expected from her ladyship. It is well for her that spirits are imprisoned in flesh and blood, or I might by this time (and it is but an hour since I received your letter) have troubled her ten times with my apparition, to wish her joy of being above the dangerous snare of professors—the smiles and frowns of the religious world; and to thank her a thousand times for not being ashamed of her old servant, and for cordially forgiving him all that is past, upon the score of the Lord’s love, and of my honest meaning. “But though, on reading your letter, my mind has travelled so fast to Bath, yet an embargo is laid upon my body—‘I must not go yet.’ I am the more inclined to take the hint, for two reasons. I will tell you all my heart about it. The more I see her ladyship’s generosity, and admire the faithfulness of the friendship that she has for many years honoured me with, the more I ought to take care not to bring burdens upon her. It might lessen her influence with those she is connected with; and might grieve some of her friends, who possibly would look upon her condescension as an affront to them. This is the first reason.