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One day a collier came to see him, and complained, in a rather whining tone, that the path of his life was dark. "H'm," growled Ramftler, who hated sniffling, "is it darker than it was in the coal-pit?" The words proved the collier's salvation. In all his habits Ramftler was strictly methodical.
"Have you never thought," said Ramftler, "of becoming a preacher of the Gospel?" "I believe," replied West, "I shall die a Moravian minister yet." "Die as a minister!" snapped Ramftler. "You ought to live as one!" The words soon came true. In response to an invitation from some pious people, Ramftler paid a visit to Brockweir, a little village on the Wye, a few miles above Tintern.
The village was a hell on earth. It was without a church, and possessed seven public-houses. There was a field of labour for the Brethren. As soon as Ramftler could collect the money, he had a small church erected, laid the corner-stone himself, and had the pleasure of seeing West the first minister of the new congregation. And like Ramftler was many another of kindred blood.
As soon as the nineteenth century opened, the Brethren began to look forward with hope to the future; and their leading preachers still believed in the divine and holy calling of the Moravian Church. Of those preachers the most famous was Christian Frederick Ramftler. He was a typical Moravian minister. He was a type in his character, in his doctrine, and in his fortunes.
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