Wroote was a wretched place. Wesley says it was “surrounded with bogs;”[65] and, according to Samuel, his brother, the parsonage was roofed with thatch and made lively by the mingled music of “kittens and whelps,” “pigs and porkets,” “bellowing kine and bleating lambs, quacking ducks and fluttering hens.” Describing his father’s presence there, he writes:— “Methinks I see you striving all Who first shall answer to his call, Or lusty Nan or feeble Moll, Sage Pat, or sober Hetty; To rub his cassock’s draggled tail, Or reach his hat from off the nail, Or seek the key to draw his ale, When damsel haps to steal it; To burn his pipe, or mend his clothes, Or nicely darn his russet hose, For comfort of his aged toes, So fine they cannot feel it.”[66] The church was a small brick building, and the population, even as late as 1821, was under three hundred. The people were, says Mehetabel Wesley, “unpolished wights,” as “dull as asses,” and with heads “as impervious as stones.” Such were Wesley’s parish and parishioners—not exactly the place where a poetical genius and classic scholar was likely to luxuriate; and yet there is no reason to entertain a doubt that Wesley was happy in his new sphere of labour. He loved retirement, and here he had it. It is not improbable that, for many a long year, Wroote would have been his residence, had not the rector of Lincoln College wished to have him back to Oxford. This gentleman had rendered such service to the Wesley family that the venerable father used to say, “I can refuse him nothing.”[67] Accordingly, the following letter, by Dr. Morley, was irresistible. “_October 21, 1729._ “At a meeting of the society, just before I left college, to consider the proper method to preserve discipline and good government, it was, in the opinion of all present, judged necessary that the junior fellows, who should be chosen moderators, shall in person attend the duties of their office, if they do not prevail with some of the fellows to officiate for them. We all thought it would be a great hardship on Mr. Fenton to call him from a perpetual curacy; yet this we must have done, had not Mr. Hutchins been so kind to him and us as to engage to supply his place in the hall for the present year. Mr. Robinson would as willingly supply yours, but the serving of two cures, about fourteen miles from Oxford, makes it, he says, impossible to discharge the duty constantly. We hope it may be as much for your advantage to reside at college as where you are, if you take pupils, or can get a curacy in the neighbourhood of Oxon. Your father may certainly have another curate, though not so much to his satisfaction; yet we are persuaded that this will not move him to hinder your return to college, since the interests of the college and obligation to statute require it.”