Fletcher of Madeley | Page 4

and whose waking hours in the dark were rendered terrific by
vivid imaginings of racked, tortured, and burning saints. Mary was one
of these. Yet so troubled was her little heart over the ungrasped subject
of faith that one day, while gazing upon these fearful pictures, she
exclaimed to herself, "Oh! oh! I do think it would be easier to burn than
to believe!"
Mary seems to have been busy with these thoughts for nearly two years.
She had not passed her eighth birthday when we find her sitting by
herself for "a good think," and wondering "What can it mean to have
faith in Jesus?"
Vexed with the mystery of the subject, her childish soul rose in
rebellion against God for having chosen so hard a way into salvation,
and she exclaimed aloud--
"Oh, if I had to die a martyr, I could do it; or give away all I have, I
could do that; or when I grow up to have to be a servant, that would be
easy; but I shall never, never, never know how to believe!"
Two lines of an old hymn drifted instantly through her mind--
Who on Jesus relies, without money or price, The pearl of forgiveness
and holiness buys.
It was the light she needed. The Spirit of Love had taken pity upon the
little girl. From that moment the plan of salvation was clear to her, and
she cried out--
"I do, I do rely on Jesus; yes, I do rely on Jesus; and God counts me
righteous for all He has done and suffered, and hath forgiven all my
sins!"
She felt that a great weight had been lifted from her heart. Before this it
seemed that everything in the world was easier than to believe, now it
appeared the simplest plan God could have devised. Had there been but
a kindly and understanding person near to whom Mary could talk freely,
she might have been a happy, trusting little Soldier of Jesus from that

hour, but there was no one to help her into the sunshine of a child's
daily faith and love and service, and religion became to her rather a
subject for morbid thought. Terribly afraid of sin, not understanding
temptation, wholly uninstructed how to get victory over her temper and
other failings, she grew discouraged, and feared she had sadly grieved
God. With all this shut up in her soul, perhaps it was no wonder that
her mother should sometimes exclaim: "That girl is the most perverse
creature that ever lived; I cannot think what has come to her."
CHAPTER III.
EARLY ADVENTURES.

From the bathing-place of Nyon château a slim, tall lad shot out into
the blue water, as much at home there, evidently, as he had been while
racing on the terrace. His long hair was bound by a strong ribbon,
which the active movements of the swimmer at length loosened. In
some unexplainable manner the ribbon caught and wound itself about
the boy's feet, tying his head to his heels, and rendering a full stroke
impossible. With all his might he struggled and tore, but the bond only
grew tighter. He was in deep water, no help within call, and the awful
thought came that there, in the budding of his bright young life, he
must be cut off and die a helpless prisoner. He stayed his struggles,
almost paralysed at the thought, and that instant the ribbon gave way
and he recovered himself.
Nor was that his only narrow escape from death in the same lake. Five
miles from the shore a rocky island reared its head.
"It would be a fine feat to swim there from land," said young Fletcher
to four of his companions. They agreed, and the five set forth. Fletcher
and one other lad succeeded in reaching the island, but found its
smooth cliffs sank so steeply into the water that there was no possibility
of climbing them. Despairingly they swam around the islet again and
again, finding at last a bare foothold to which they clung until a boat
fetched them off. The other three could swim but half the distance to

the island, and would have sunk exhausted had not a passing boat
picked them up.
A third time young Fletcher narrowly escaped drowning; on this
occasion it was in the Rhine, where the river is wide and very rapid.
The current swept him far from home, nor could he land for the sharp
rocks on either hand. At length he was flung violently against one of
the piles of a powder mill, lost consciousness, and disappeared, rising
again on the other side of the mill (according to an onlooker, who took
out his watch) twenty minutes after his head had vanished beneath the
water. Surely a