The fame of the Cathedral, its architect, and its carvings, was widely spread, and brought many from the country to seek for work on the new building. Of one of these a curious account remains.[197] A young man, named Philip Wood, of Sudbury, Suffolk, who had great skill in carving, came up to London to make, if he could, sufficient fortune to enable him to marry the daughter of his patron, a retired London merchant named Haybittle. After long waiting in London, without work, till his money was all but spent, he, remembering the rich wood work which abounded in the churches of his native Suffolk, bethought himself that in the Cathedral, whose progress he daily watched, 'they would surelie put carvings.' The foreman to whom he spoke repulsed him, saying 'We want no carpenters here.' Undiscouraged, the young man came again day after day for a week, till at length Sir Christopher noticed him, and learning from the foreman that he was 'a country fellow who troubled them to give him some of the carving to do,' beckoned to Wood to come and speak to him. As the young man approached full of hope, he said, 'Friend, you want carving work--what have you been used to carve?' At this critical, long-desired moment the poor youth lost his presence of mind, and instead of mentioning the 'sundry figures of lions and elephants' that he had carved for Mr. Haybittle's house, stammered out, 'Please your worship, I have been used to carve troughs.' 'Troughs!' said Sir Christopher; 'then carve me as a specimen of your skill, a sow and pigs (it will be something in your line), and bring it to me this day week. I shall be here.' So he went away, with a smile at the presumption which could aspire to step straight from such work to that of adorning S. Paul's. Distracted at his own folly and the loud laughter of the workpeople, Wood rushed back to his lodging, and but for the kind advice of his Quaker landlady, would have given up all for lost. She wisely told him to take Wren at his word and carve the best sow and pigs that he could make.