Their rage and hatred steadfast as the ground.
With these unpolished wights, thy youthful days
Glide slow and dull, and Nature’s lamp decays:
Oh what a lamp is hid, ’midst such a sordid race!”[[273]]
Mr Wesley wished his son, John, to become his curate at Wroot, and, for a time, he officiated in that capacity; but, in 1729, he was obliged to relinquish his duties there, in order to fulfil the office of Moderator of Lincoln College, Oxford.[[274]]
CHAPTER XIX.
LETTERS—1725–1735.
It has often been said that, generally speaking, there is nothing which develops a man’s character so much as his own private letters to his friends. Hitherto we have made sparing use of Mr Wesley’s correspondence, and hence, that the reader may have an opportunity, by means of such a test, to form his own opinion respecting this venerable man, we devote this chapter entirely to his “letters.” All the letters inserted here were written within the last eleven years of his eventful life—many of them have been previously published; but, with respect to others, this is the first time that they have been submitted to the public eye. A few notes may be useful; but, with this exception, the chapter will consist entirely of letters. The chapter is long, but the writer flatters himself that the reader will thank him for it.
To his Son John.
“Wroot, Jan. 26, 1724–5.
“Dear Son,—I am so well pleased with your decent behaviour, or, at least, with your letters, that I hope I shall have no occasion to remember some things that are past. Since you have now, for some time, bit upon the bridle, I will take care hereafter to put little honey upon it as oft as I am able; but then it shall be of my own mere motion, as the last £5 was; for I will bear no rival in my kingdom.