Samuel Wesley himself wrote an account of this dire disaster to his old patron, the Duke of Buckingham; and that account contains some particulars not included in the preceding statement, taken from the description furnished by his wife. He says, that on the day when the fire occurred they had been brewing, but had finished the operation at least six hours before the flames broke out. He was in his study till half-past ten o’clock, but neither saw nor smelled anything of fire. The reason why he slept in a room separate from his wife was because she was near her confinement. Her daughters, Emilia and Susannah, were sleeping with her. When he was aroused by the cry of fire, he ran to her room with his nightgown and one stocking on, and his breeches in his hand. They had about £20, in gold and silver, in the room occupied by Mrs Wesley, which she wanted to take with her; but there was no time for this, and she had to escape for her life as she left her bed. The whole family had to flee in nothing but their night-dresses. While the nurse was escaping with the infant child, Charles, in her arms, she was saluted with a curse by one of the neighbours, and told that they had fired the house themselves, the second time, on purpose. While Wesley was running about the street, inquiring for his wife and children, he met the chief man and chief constable of the town going from the house, not towards it. Wesley took him by the hand and said, “God’s will be done!” His surly answer was, “Will you never have done with your tricks? You fired your house once before. Did you not get money enough by it then that you have done it again?” Wesley replied, “God forgive you! I find you are chief, Maw, still.” When he found his wife she was almost speechless. She had waded, at the peril of her life, through two or three yards of flame, having nothing on but her shoes and a wrapping gown, and a loose coat, which she held about her breast. He adds, “When poor Jackey was saved, I could not believe it till I had kissed him two or three times. My wife said, ‘Are your books safe?’ I told her it was not much, now she and all the rest were preserved alive. A little lumber was saved below stairs; but not one rag or leaf above. We found some of the silver in a lump, which I shall send up to Mr Hoare to sell for me. Mr Smith, of Gainsborough, and others, have sent for some of my children. I want nothing, having above half my barley safe in my barns unthrashed. I had finished my alterations in the ‘Life of Christ’ a little while since, and transcribed three copies of it; but all is lost. God be praised! I know not how to write to my poor boy Samuel; and yet I must, or else he will think we are all lost. I hope my wife will recover and not miscarry, but God will give me my nineteenth child. She has burnt her legs; but they mend. When I came to her her lips were black. I did not know her. Some of the children are a little burnt, but not hurt or disfigured.