“What should I be, if I did not take your offer to come down soon? But you could not now get from hence to Wroot; though I can make shift to get from Wroot to Epworth by boat; and it cannot be worse this summer. However, if you have any prospect of doing good to F——n[[288]] (let none of my lads ever despair,) I beg you, for God’s sake, to take to him again; for how do you know, that you may thereby save a soul from death, and cover a multitude of sins? I heartily give you this advice, and beg of you, as you love God, or me, that you would follow it, as far as it is practicable. Once more, remember what a soul is worth, as you know what price was paid for it.
“I hope, in a fortnight, to be able to walk to Epworth. When I am tired, I will send you word. If you should come, it would be best to buy a horse; for I have now ground enough to spare for a dozen. I am weary.—From your loving father,
“Samuel Wesley.”[[289]]
The above letter refers to the difficulty of travelling in the neighbourhood of Epworth. The following, written five days later, alludes to the same matter:—
“Wroot, June 26, 1727.
“Dear Son John,—I do not think I have yet thanked you enough for your kind and dutiful letter of the 14th inst, which I received at Bawtry, last Wednesday, and answered there in a hurry; yet, on reflection, I see no reason to alter my mind much as to what I then writ; but, if you had any prospect of doing good on your pupil, I should have been pleased with your attempting it some time longer. If that is past, or hopeless, there is an end of the matter.
“When you come hither, after having taken care of Charterhouse and your own rector, your headquarters will, I believe, be for the most part at Wroot, as mine, if I can, at Epworth, though sometimes making an exchange. The truth is, I am hipp’d by my voyage and journey to and from Epworth last Sunday; being lamed with having my breeches too full of water, partly with a downfall from a thunder shower, and partly from the wash over the boat. Yet I thank God I was able to preach here in the afternoon, and was as well this morning as ever, except a little pain and lameness, both of which I hope to wash off with a hair of the same dog this evening.
“I wish the rain had not reached us on this side Lincoln; but we have it so continual that we have scarce one bank left, and I cannot possibly have one quarter of oats in all the levels; but, thanks be to God, the fields of barley and rye are good. We can neither go afoot nor on horseback to Epworth, but only by boat as far as Scawsit Bridge, and then walk over the common, though I hope it will soon be better. I would gladly send horses, but don’t think I have now any that would perform the journey; for—1. My filly has scarcely recovered from the last, and I question if she ever will. However, I have turned her up to the waggon, and very seldom ride her. 2. Mettle is almost blind. 3. Your favourite two-eyed nag they have taken to swing in the back, and he is never like to be good for riding any more. 4. And Bounce and your mother’s nag, you know. Therefore, if you can get a pretty strong horse, not over fine, nor old, nor fat, I think it would improve, especially in summer, and be worth your while. I would send as far as Nottingham to meet you, but would have your studies as little intermitted as possible, and hope I shall do a month or two longer, as I am sure I ought to do all I can both for God’s family and my own; and when I find it sinks me, or perhaps a little before, I will certainly send you word, with about a fortnight’s notice; and in the meantime send you my blessing, as being your loving father,
“Samuel Wesley.”[[290]]
“P.S.—Dear Charles, were I you, it should go hard but I’d get one of the Blenheim prizes. Thomas calls. Good night to you.”