"Yes," said she, "we are all proud of him, and shall be prouder before long, when he goes to Oxford!" "Why to Oxford?" asked Patty, not comprehending, and sought her mother's eyes for the interpretation. Mrs. Wesley smiled. "Why, to be a great man," Molly went on; "perhaps in time as great as Jack or Charles." Johnny, in his usual seat by the chimney-corner, detected the challenge in her tone, but did not look up. "Is it true?" persisted Patty. He stared into the fire, blushing furiously. "It is true." Mrs. Wesley rose, and stepping to him laid a hand on his straggling dark hair. "What is more, he has deserved it, not to-day only but by his goodness over many years. The Lord shall be his illumination," she said gravely, quoting the motto of the University which (amazing thought!) was to be _his_ University. "May the light of His countenance rest upon you, dear son." She had never called him by that title before. He caught her hand and for the moment, in the boldness of a great love, clasped it between his own. Now he could look across at Molly: and she nodded back at him, her eyes brimful--but behind her tears they gave him absolution and released him from the doubt. CHAPTER IV. This was at the close of August, 1728, and the Rector's letter entreating his good offices for Johnny Whitelamb reached John Wesley on the eve of his taking Priest's Orders, for which he was then preparing at Oxford. He was ordained priest on September 22nd, and a week later had news from William Wright in London that Hetty's third child was born--and was dead. This is how the father announced his loss: "To the Revd. Mr. John Wesley, Fellow in Christ Church College, Oxon" John smiled at the superscription, inaccurate in more ways than one. "Dear Bro: This comes to Let you know that my wife is brought to bed and is in a hopefull way of Doing well but the Dear child Died--the Third day after it was born--which has been of great concerne to me and my wife She Joyns With me In Love to your selfe and Bro: Charles. From Your Loveing Bro: to Comnd-- Wm. Wright. "P.S. I've sen you Sum Verses that my wife maid of Dear Lamb Let me hear from one or both of you as Soon as you think Convenient." And these are Hetty's verses inclosed. A Mother's Address to Her Dying Infant "Tender softness, infant mild, Perfect, purest, brightest Child! Transient lustre, beauteous clay, Smiling wonder of a day! Ere the last convulsive start Rend thy unresisting heart, Ere the long-enduring swoon Weigh thy precious eyelids down, Ah, regard a mother's moan! --Anguish deeper than thy own. "Fairest eyes, whose dawning light Late with rapture blest my sight, Ere your orbs extinguish'd be, Bend their trembling beams on me!