ing letters or extracts from
letters. John was ordained on September 19th. A few weeks later he
preached his first sermon at South Leigh, a village near Witney and
but a few miles out of Oxford. He and Charles visited Wroote that
Christmas, and on January 11th he preached a funeral sermon at
Epworth for John Griffith, a hopeful young man, the son of one of his
father's parishioners, taking for his theme 2 Samuel xii. 23,
"But now he is dead, wherefore should I fast? Can I bring him back
again? I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me "--a text
obvious enough. He returned for the beginning of the Oxford Lent
Term, having had no sight of Hetty. His chances of a fellowship at
Lincoln College had long been debated, and on March 17th he was
elected. Meanwhile Charles had passed out of Westminster with a
studentship to support him at Christ Church, the college his brother
was leaving.

The first letter--from Patty--bears no date, but was written from
Wroote about the time of John's ordination.

From Martha (Patty) Wesley to her brother John

Dear Brother,--I believe it is above half a year since I wrote
to you, and yet, though it is so long since, you never were so
good as to write to me again; and you have written several times
since to my sisters, but have perfectly neglected your loving
sister Martha, as if you had not known there was such a person
in the world; at which I pretended to be so angry that I
resolved I would never write to you more. Yet my anger soon
gave way to my love, as it always does whenever I chance to be
angry with you. But you only confirm me in the truth of an
observation I have since made; which is, that if ever I love any
person very well, and desire to be loved by them in return--as,
to be sure, whoever loves desires to be loved--I always meet
with unkind returns. I shall be exceedingly glad if you get the
Fellowship you stand for; which if you do, I shall hope that one
of the family besides my brother Sam will be provided for.
I believe you very well deserve to be happy, and I sincerely
wish you may be so both in this life and the next.

For my own particular I have long looked upon myself to be what
the world calls ruined--that is, I believe there will never be
any provision made for me, but when my father dies I shall have
my choice of three things--starving, goi