“As to my parish, all that I see in it, hitherto, is nothing but what one may expect from speaking plainly, and with some degree of earnestness; a crying out, ‘He is a Methodist—a downright Methodist!’ While some of the poorer say, ‘Nay, but he speaketh the truth!’ Some of the best farmers, and most of the respectable tradesmen, talk about turning me out of my living as a Methodist or a Baptist. My Friday lecture took better than I expected, and I propose to continue it till the congregation desert me. The number of hearers at that time is generally larger than that which my predecessor had on Sunday. The number of communicants is increased from thirty to above a hundred; and a few seem to seek grace in the means. I thank your ladyship for mentioning Mr. Jones as a curate. There is little probability of my ever wanting one. My oath obliges me to residence, and, when I am here, I can easily manage all the business, and only wait for opportunities of oftener bearing witness to the truth.”[70] Footnote 70: “Life and Times of the Countess of Huntingdon,” vol. i., p. 240. Fletcher’s troubles were various. He was dissatisfied with himself; a visionary convert caused him anxiety; and many of his parishioners maligned him. Writing to Charles Wesley on March 10, 1761, he remarked:— “I feel more and more that I neither _abide_ in Christ, nor Christ in me; nevertheless, I do not _so_ feel it, as to seek Him without intermission. ‘_Oh wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from_’ this heart of unbelief? Blessed be God, who has promised me this deliverance, through our Lord Jesus Christ! “My new convert has, with great difficulty, escaped the wiles of the devil; who, by fifty visions, had set her on the pinnacle of the temple. Thanks be to God, she has come down without being cast headlong. I have had more trouble with her visions than with her unbelief. Two other persons profess that they have received the consolations of Divine love: I wait for their _fruits_. “A few days ago, I was violently tempted to quit Madeley. The spirit of Jonah had so seized upon my heart that I had the insolence to murmur against the Lord; but the storm is now happily calmed, at least for a season. Alas! what stubbornness there is in the will of man; and with what strength does it combat the will of God under the _mask of piety_, when it can no longer do so with the uncovered, shameless face of vice! ‘_If a man bridleth not his tongue_,’ all his _outward ‘religion is vain.’_ May we not add to this, if a man bridleth not his will, which is the language of his desires, his _inward religion is vain_ also? The Lord does not, however, leave me altogether; and I have often a secret hope that He will one day touch my heart and lips with a live coal from the altar; and that then His word shall consume the stubble, and break to pieces the stone.