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and chide him back into thankfulness and hope? | sense of guilt. The report was good—Madeline And surely we ought to take account of the stars, slept ; she had roused once, appeared feverish, and not look only at the blank spaces of sky be- uneasy, restless, and Mrs. Aytoun had administween them.
tered the second dose of opium. Ida stole to the Ida had kneeled some time by Madeline's bed bedside, satisfied herself that her friend's slumber side in silent prayer, when a tap at the door was really profound and calm ; and then, in obearoused her. She softly opened it, and there dience to a special summons from Melissa, destood dear uncle John with a candle in his hand. scended to the breakfast-room, where the party
My-my-darling,” stammered he,“ you 'll was already assembled. Thrice she stopped on be ill and tired. Go to bed, please, and let me the stairs, and drew her hand across her face with sit up the rest of the night.”
a feeling of bewilderment. So many new, strange, Poor uncle John! he had a high-peaked night-painful thoughts were busy in her heart, that she cap on his head, with an odd little tuft at the top felt quite overpowered. She said to herself that of it ; he was quite tipsy with suppressed sleep, she felt ten years older for that one night. She and he held the candle all on one side, and winked felt almost a terror of encountering Madeline and blinked at it, as if he was trying to make it when she should awake ; and she longed more incomprehend, by signals, that it ought to stand up- tensely than ever for the presence of her father, right again. He wore a dressing-gown, with a who would, she was sure, set all right, if only he huge flowered pattern, like a shawl gone mad, were there. and he moved his feet about in his slippers as if Little Arthur sprang to meet her as she entered there were pivots in them, and he was forever the room, and she could only by a strong effort losing his balance. He looked like an owl that keep back her tears when she stooped to kiss him. had been drinking punch, and felt cheerful, un- She had not perceived that there was any addition reasonable, and impotent, after the unwonted to the party ; but when Melissa's sharp voice.
I don't know what will be thought of softened as it generally was in company into an Ida, but a sense of the ludicrous is the strongest of artificial hoarseness, saluted her with the words all the senses, and the most resolute in its disre- —" Ida, my dear, come and speak to Mr. Tyrgard of time and place; and, in spite of her recent rell; he is a friend of your father's and particularemotion and present sorrow, she fairly laughed in ly wishes to be introduced to you,”—she shrank his face. It's no use trying to conceal the fact, back, feeling herself change color, trembling from though it will probably be thought “shockingly head to foot, and almost ready to faint. inconsistent ;' but the misfortune is, that life is It was true that she had heard that Mr. Tyrrell shockingly inconsistent too, and will mix the was expected, but she had forgotten it; and it comic with the solemn whether we like it or not. seemed strange and terrible that he should actual
Ida propped up the candle with one hand, and ly be in the house. Melissa's hasty whisper recoaxingly stroked the good man's cheek with the called her to herself:-"My dear Ida, pray
don't other. “ You dear, kind uncle!” she said ; | allow yourself to be shy; there is nothing so un
you are talking in your sleep, you know; and lady-like as shyness.” She moved forward with so we must allow for your talking nonsense. Of all her natural gracefulness, and if she was pale, course you must go to bed again, for there 's and the hand which she put into Mr. Tyrrell's nothing else to be done; and I'm not in the least was somewhat cold and shook a little, it passed tired."
for the effect of her watching and anxiety, and “ Well,” exclaimed uncle John, a little more was not otherwise noticed. Alexander was forcoherently, “I can't let you wear yourself out for ward in his expressions of concern and interestall the Mrs. Chesters in the world. If you it was shameful that she should have been suffered won't let me sit up with her, I shall go and call to tire herself—what would she take? She Melissa."
looked pale, absolutely pale—he would never forIda put up her hands and her eyebrows, and give Mrs. Chester. And yet he could not call the drew him a little further from the door, fearing paleness unbecoming; only it made him feel anxlest they should disturb the invalid. Oh, now ious. He would drive her out after breakfast, you are quite mad!” cried she. “ There is some- and the air would revive her, While he was thing very bad indeed the matter with you, I'm pouring these protestations into her ear, Godfrey afraid. I don't know whether I had not better had silently placed before her his own untasted come and sit up with you, for you are evidently in cup of coffee ; and the timely stimulant just saved a most dangerous state.”
her from the commonplace resource of a young They were here interrupted by aunt Ellenor, lady in difficulties—a hearty fit of crying. As who, with equal kindness and a little more reason, soon as she dared, she stole a hasty glance at had determined upon sharing Ida's vigil, and now Mr. Tyrrell. He was a tall, fine-looking man, came to take her place. Ida resisted as long as rather older than she expected to see him; his she could, but submitted at last, on the condition dark hair was touched with gray, and the expresthat she was to be roused immediately if any sion of his face, though very determined, had also change took place in the patient. She was not great gentleness. The determination was in the roused, however, till the broad sunlight awakened mouth, which seemed the very index of a steadfast her; and she sprang from her bed almost with a land inexorable will; the lips, finely cut and firmly closed, with a slight compression at the corners, melancholy gaze. She felt very nervouis; there which there was no mistaking. But the sweet- was a slight movement in the room above-Madeness was in the eyes, which were, at the same line's room ; she looked first at Mr. Tyrrell, then time, uncommonly penetrating, and which were at the child, then thought of the poor
sufferer up fixed upon Ida's face with an expression of inter- stairs, and felt as if she could not bear the mysest so strangely deep and earnest, that she looked tery, and wonder, and pain, which had thus come down almost frightened, and the ready blush upon her. Why did he look at her so ? There mantled in her transparent cheeks.
must be some reason for it. She would have ran Perhaps Mr. Tyrrell felt that his gaze had been out of the room, but she encountered Melissa's more fixed than good breeding permitted, for he eye, and she knew well that nothing so grievously shook off his reverie, and resumed the conversa- disturbed that lady's equanimity as an irregularity tion which Ida's entrance had interrupted. Heat meals. So she sat still, though her head was speaking of his little boy. “I suppose I ached terribly, and in another minute Mr. Tyrrell shall be thought rather strange,” said he ; “but, addressed her, but certainly not in a manner calnext to a sense of right and wrong, I confess I am culated to restore her composure. principally anxious to develop in him a sense of “Is there not a Mrs. Chester who generally beauty and ugliness—in other words, a true love lives with you, Miss Lee?” he inquired, gently, of art.
Few things would give me such pleasure but (so it seemed to her) with the air of a man as to see him an artist."
who was suppressing some agitation ;—" a friend, “ An artist !” remarked Alexander, senior, to whom you are very deeply attached ?” with a polite bow, thinking in his secret heart, “Yes,” replied Ida, almost in a whisper, and “ what a simpleton you must be, to be sure !” but scarcely conscious what she said. saying aloud,“ how very disinterested !”
“I am particularly anxious to be introduced to “Disinterested !" exclaimed uncle John. “Well, her. Shall I not see her?” pursued Mr. Tyrrell. it 's disinterested, to be sure, supposing he should Ida could not answer him. Luckily, uncle turn out to have no genius for it; otherwise, you John spoke for her. Oh, poor thing! she's in know, artists very often make their fortunes, in bed," replied he. “She's very ill---brain fever, these days."
or something of the sort. Ida sat up half the Mr. Tyrrell smiled. “ Yes," said he, a little night with her.” absently; “ we are learning, I hope, to know a There could be no question that Mr. Tyrrell's Jittle more than we used to do of the use of art. face now expressed some very painful feeling, Revelation, Nature, Art-these are the three though it was immediately suppressed. lights of life, though the first is, of course, a sun, she is better-likely to get better," said he, after and the others only stars."
a moment's pause, speaking hurriedly, and in an “I am heartily glad,” cried Godfrey, with en- under tone to Ida, while the others were beginthusiasm, " that you don't talk like most people, ning to discuss something else. “I hope in a who seem to think that God Almighty never made few days—" He stopped abruptly. “I don't anything except the Bible. There seems to be know-I hope so.”. This was Ida's incoherent no infidelity so bad or so common as that which answer. Mr. Tyrrell said little more during the fails to perceive the divinity of all creation-the rest of breakfast. He seemed to be laboring religion, if I may so speak, which exists in every- under a depression which he could not shake off. thing that God has made, which it is man's busi- Ida was thanksul indeed when the moment arress to develop.”
rived at which she might withdraw. Her brain • My dear Godfrey !” ejaculated Melissa, clos- was in a whirl. Was it possible that he susing her eyes, with a slight sigh, “ if you knew pected—that he had discovered ? and if so, what what pain it gives me to hear you speak so pro- a time, and what a manner of making the inquiry! fanely, I am sure you would n't do it.”
It was surely impossible. And yet, what else Godfrey looked as if he could have struck her, could explain his behavior ? When she entered and Mr. Tyrrell scarcely kept his countenance. Madeline's room, her thoughts were scarcely The conversation flagged a little, and when Ida calmer or clearer than those of the poor invalid looked up again, the strange new comer was again herself. contemplating her with a wistful, carnest, half
• I hope
(FRENCH PROTECTION OF SCOTLAND.]
God, the affairs of this country have been regulated,
and everything goes on well, and for their benefit STEPHEN Perkin, an ecclesiastic who wrote a and that of their kingdom. How happy oughtest description of England and Scotland in French, pub- thou to esteem thyself, O kingdom of Scotland, to lished in Paris, 1558, speaks thus of Scotland :- be favored, fed, and maintained, like an infant, on “ This country, although it is in a bad neighbor- the breast of the most puissant and magnanimous hood, being near a haughty, treacherous, and proud king of France, the greatest lord in the whole world, enemy, has nevertheless sustained itself in a manly and future monarch of that round machine, for withsort by the means and assistance of the most noble out him thou wouldst have been laid in ashes, thy king of France, who has many times let the Eng- country wasted and ruined by the English, utterly Jish know what were the consequences of the anger accursed of God.”—Monthly Review, vol. 61, 1779, of so great a monarch and emperor. But thanks to'p. 12.
Sheepscote, Nov. 20.-Annoyed by Dick's com- never wearie mine ; soe, if you please, deare Moll, panions, I prayed father to let me stay awhile with we will goe to our lessons here everie morning ; Rose ; and gaining his consent, came over here and it may be that I shall get you through yo gramyestermorn, without thinking it needefulle to send mar faster than Robin can. If we come to anie notice, which was perhaps inconsiderate. But difficultie we shall refer it to Roger." she received me with kisses and words of tender- Now, Mr. Agnew's looks exprest such pleasure nesse, though less smiling than usualle, and eager- with both, that it were difficult to tell which felt lie accepted mine offered visitt. Then she ran off y most elated ; soe calling me deare Moll, (he to find Roger, and I heard them talking earnestlie hath hitherto Mistress Miltoned me ever since I in a low voice before they came in. His face sett foot in his house,) he sayed he would not was grave, even stern, when he entred, but he interrupt our studdies, though he should be within held out his hand, and sayd, “ Mistress Milton, call, and soe left us. I had not felt soe happy you are welcome! how is it with you ? and how since father's birthday ; and though Rose kept me was Mr. Milton when he wrote to you last !” 1 close to my book for two hours, I found her a far answered brieflie, he was well : than came a silence, less irksome tutor than deare Robin. Then she and then Rose took me to my chamber, which was went away, singing, to make Roger’s favorite dish, sweet with lavender, and its hangings of ye whitest. and afterwards we tooke a brisk walke, and came It reminded m too much of my first week of mar- home hungrie enough to dinner. riage, soe I resolved to think not at all lest I There is a daily beauty in Rose's life, that I shoulde be bad companie, but cheer up and be gay. not onlie admire, but am readie to envy. Oh! if Soe I asket Rose a thousand questions about her Milton lived but in ye poorest house in the coundairie and bees, laught much at dinner, and told trie, methinks I coulde be very happy with him. Mr. Agnew sundrie of the merrie sayings of Dick and his Oxford friends. And, for my reward, Bedtime.-Chancing to make the above remark when we were afterwards apart, I heard him tell to Rose, she cried, “And why not be happy with Rose (by reason of yo walls being thin) that how- him in Aldersgate Street ?" I brieflie replied ever she might regard me for old affection's sake, that he must get the house first, before it were he thought he had never knowne soe unpromising possible to tell whether I coulde be happy there or a character. This made me dulle enoughe alle the not. Rose stared, and exclaimed, “Why, where rest of the evening, and repent having come to do you suppose him to be now?" Where but at Sheepscote : however, he liked me yo better for the taylor's in St. Bride's Churchyard ?" I rebeing quiete ; and Rose, being equallie chekt, we plied. She claspt her hands with a look I shall sewed in silence while he read to us ye first di- never forget, and exclaimed in a sort of vehement vision of Spencer's Legend of Holinesse, about passion, “Oh, cousin, cousin, how you throw Una and the Knight, and how they got sundered. your own happinesse away! How awfulle a pause This led to much serious, yet not unpleasing dis- must have taken place in your intercourse with course, which lasted till supper. For the first the man whom you promised to abide by till death, time at Sheepscote, I coulde not eat, which Mr. since you know not that he has long since taken Agnew observing, prest me to take wine, and possession of his new home; that he strove to Rose woulde starte up to fetch some of her pre- have it ready for you at Michaelmasse !" serves ; but I chekt her with a motion, not being Doubtlesse I lookt noe less surprised than I felt; quite able to speak; for their being soe kind made -a suddain prick at ye heart prevented speech ; y teares ready to starte, I knew not why. but it shot acrosse my heart that I made out ye
Family prayers, after supper, rather too long ; words “Aldersgate” and “new home,” in ye fragyet though I coulde not keep up my attention, ments of the letter my father had torn. Rose, they seemed to spread a calm and a peace alle misjudging my silence, burst forthe anew with “Oh, about, that extended even to me ; and though, cousin! cousin ! coulde anie home, however dull after I had undressed, I sat a long while in a maze, and noisesome, drive me from Roger Agnew? and bethought me how piteous a creature I was, Onlie think of what you are doing—of what you yet, once layed down, I never sank into deeper, are leaving undone !-of what you are preparing more composing sleep.
against yourself! To put the wickednesse of a
selfish course out of ye account, onlie think of its Nov. 21.—This morning, Rose exclaimed, mellancholie, its miserie-destitute of alle the “Dear Roger! onlie think! Moll has begun to sweet, bright, fresh well-springs of happinesse ;learn Latin since she returned to Forest Hill, unblest by God!” thinking to surprise Mr. Milton when they meet." Here Rose wept passionatelie, and claspt her “She will not onlie surprise but please him,” re- arms about me; but, when I began to speak, and turned dear Roger, taking my hand very kindlie ; to tell her of much that had made me miserable, “I can onlie say, I hope they will meet long be- she hearkened in motionlesse silence, till I told her fore she can read his Poemata, unless she learnes that father had torn ye letter and beaten the mesmuch faster than most people." I replyed, I senger. Then she cried, “Oh, I see now what learned very slowly, and wearied Robin's patience ; may and shall be done! Roger shall be peaceon which Rose, kissing me, cried, “You will ) maker,” and ran off with joyfulnesse ; I not with
holding her. But I can never be joyfulle more- | it. And you know well enough, Moll, that what he cannot be day’s-man betwixt us now—'t is alle father decrees, must be, and he hath decreed that too late!
you must come home now; soe no more ado, I
pray you, but fetch your cloak and hood, and the Nov. 28.–Now that I am at Forest Hill agayn, horses shall come round, for 't will be late e'er we I will essay to continue my journalling:
reach home. “Nay, you must dine here at all Mr. Agnew was out; and though a keene events,” sayd Rose ; “I know, Dick, you love wintry winde was blowing, and Rose was suffer- roast pork.” Soe Dick relented. Soe Rose, ing from colde, yet she went out to listen for his turning to me, prayed me to bid Cicely hasten dinhorse's feet at y gate, with onlie her apron cast ner ; the which I did, tho' thinking it strange over her head. Shortlie, he returned ; and I heard Rose should not goe herself. But, as I returned, him say in a troubled voice, “Alle are in arms at I heard her say, Not a word of it dear Dick, at Forest Hill." I felt soe greatlie shocked as to the least, till after dinner, lest you spoil her apneede to sit downe instead of running forthe to petite. Soe Dick sayd he shoulde goe and look learn y news. I supposed ye parliamentarian after ye horses. I sayd then, brisklie, I see soldiers had advanced, unexpectedlie, upon Oxford. somewhat is the matter-pray tell me what it is. His next words were, “Dick is coming for her at But Rose looked quite dull, and walked to ye winnoone-poor soul, I know not what she will doe dow. Then Mr. Agnew sayd, -her father will trust her noe longer with you dissatisfied to leave us, cousin, as we are to lose and me.” Then I saw them both passe the win- you ; and yet you are going back to Forest Hill dow, slowlie pacing together, and hastened forth -to that home in which you will doubtlesse be to joyn them ; but they had turned into yo pleached happy to live all your dayes.” “At Forest Hill?” alley, theire backs towards me; and both in such I sayd, “oh no! I hope not.” “And why?” earnest and apparentlie private communication, said he quicklie. I hung my head, and muttered, that I dared not interrupt them till they turned I hope, some daye, to goe back to Mr. Milton.” aboute, which was not for some while ; for they “And why not at once?” sayd he. I sayd, “ Father stood for some time at ye head of ye alley, still would not let me. Nay, that is childish,” he with theire backs to me, Rose's hair blowing in answered ; “ your father could not hinder you if y cold wind; and once or twice she seemed to you wanted not y® mind to goe—it was your first put her kerchief to her eyes.
seeming soe loth to return, that made him think Now, while I stood mazed and uncertain, I you unhappie and refuse to part with you." I hearde a distant clatter of horse's feet, on yo hard sayd, “ And what if I were unhappie?" He road a good way off, and could descrie Dick com- paused ; and knew not at y moment what aning towards Sheepscote. Rose saw him too, and swer to make, but shortlie replied by another comienced running towards me; Mr. Agnew fol- question, “What cause had you to be soe?” I lowing with long strides. Rose drew me back says, “ That was more easily askt than answered, into yo house, and sayd, kissing me, “Dearest even if there were anie neede I shoulde answer it, Moll, I am soe sorry ; Roger hath seen your father or he had anie right to ask it.” He cried in an this morn, and he will on no account spare you to accent of tendernesse that still rings my heart to us anie longer ; and Dick is coming to fetch you remember. “ Oh question not the right! I only
I sayd, " Is father ill ?” “ Oh no,” | wish to make you happy. Were you not happy replied Mr. Agnew ; then coming up,“ He is not with Mr. Milton during y week you spent thill, but he is perturbed at something which has gether here at Sheepscote ?" Thereat I coulde occurred; and, in truth, soe am I.—But remem- not refrayn from bursting into tears.
Rose now ber, Mistress Milton, remember, dear cousin, that sprang forward ; but Mr. Agnew sayd, “ Let her when you married, your father's guardianship of weep, let her weep, it will do her good.” Then, you passed into y hands of your husband—your alle at once it occurred to me that my husband husband's house was thenceforthe your home; and, was awaiting me at home, and I cried, “Oh, is in quitting it you committed a fault you may yet Mr. Milton at Forest Hill ?" and felt my heart repaire, thongh this offensive act has made yo full of gladness. Mr. Agnew answered, “Not difficultie much greater.”—“Oh, what has hap- soe, not soe, poor Moll :" and, looking up at him, pened ?" I impatientlie cried. Just then, Dick I saw him wiping his brow, though the daye was comes in with his usual blunt salutations, and then soe chill. " As well tell her now,” sayd he to cries, Well, Moll, are you ready to goe back?” Rose ; and then taking my hand, “Oh, Mrs. Mil“Why should I be?" I sayd, “ when I am soe ton, can you wonder that your husband shoulde be happy here? unless father is ill, or Mr. Agnew angry? How can you wonder at anie evil that and Rose are tired of ine.” They both interrupted, may result from y provocation you have given there was nothing they soe much desired, at this him? What marvell, that since you cast him off, present, as that I shoulde prolong my stay. And all y sweet fountains of his affections would be you know Dick, I added, that Forest Hill is not embittered, and that he should retaliate by seeking soe pleasant to me just now as it hath commonlie a separation, and even a divorce ?”—There I stopt beene, by reason of your Oxford companions. He him with an outcry of “ Divorce ?" briefle sayd, I neede not mind that, they were he most mournfully replyed, " and I seeke not to coming no more to y house, father had decreed excuse him, since two wrongs make not a right.”
- Even soe,'
“But,” I cried, passionately weeping, "I have soe manie other thoughts had driven out of my given him noe cause ; my heart has never for a head, viz., that Mr. Milton had, in his desire moment strayed to another, nor does he, I am to please me, while I was onlie bent on pleasing sure, expect it." Ne’erthelesse,” enjoined Mr. myself, been secretly striving to make readie Agnew, “he is soe aggrieved and chafed, that he ye Aldersgate Street house agaynst my return, has followed up what he considers your breach of soe overcame me, that I wept as I rode along. the marriage contract by writing and publishing a Nay, at y corner of a branch road, had a mind to book on divorce; the tenor of which coming to beg Dick to let me goe to London ; but a glance your father's ears, has violently incensed him. at his dogged countenance sufficed to foreshow my And now, dear cousin, having, by your wayward- answer. ness, kindled this flame, what remains for you but Half dead with fatigue and griefe when I to-nay, hear me, hear me, Moll, for Dick is reached home, yo tender embraces of my father coming in, and I may not not let him hear me and mother completed ye overthrowe of my spiritts. urge you to y onlie course that can regayn your I tooke to my bed ; and this is ye first daye I have peace-Mr. Milton is still your husband ; each of left it; nor will they let me send for Rose, nor you have now something to forgive ; do you be even tell her I am ill. yo firste : nay, seeke his forgivenesse, and you shall be happier than you have beene yet.”
January 1, 1644.—The new year opens dreari-But I was weeping without controule ; and lie, on affairs both publick and private. The Dick coming in, and with Dick ye dinner, I askt loaf parted at breakfast this morning, which, as to be excused, and soe soughte my chamber, to the saying goes, is a sign of separation ; but weep there without restraynt or witnesse. Poor mother onlie sayd 't was because it was badly Rose came up, as soone as she coulde leave the kneaded, and chid Margery. She hath beene table, and told me she had eaten as little as I, telling me, but now, how I mighte have 'scaped and woulde not even presse me to eat. But she all my troubles, and seene as much as I woulde of carest me and comforted me, and urged in her her and father, and yet have contented Mr. Milton owne tender way alle that had beene sayd by Mr. and beene counted a good wife. Noe advice soe Agnew ; even protesting that if she were in my ill to bear as that which comes too late. place, she would not goe back to Forest Hill, but straight to London, to entreat with Mr. Milton for Jan. 7.- I am sick of this journalling, soe shall
But I told her I could not do that, onlie put downe ye date of Robin's leaving home. even had I the means for ye journey; for that my Lord have mercy on him, and keepe him in safeheart was turned against ye man who coulde, for tie. This is a shorte prayer ; therefore, easier to yo venial offence of a young wife, in abiding too be often repeated. When he kissed me, he long with her old father, not onlie cast her whispered, “ Moll, pray for me.” off from his love, but hold her up to ye world's blame and scorn, by making their domestic quar- Jan. 27.–Father does not seeme to miss Robin rel the matter for a printed attack. Rose sayd, much, tho' he dailie drinks his health after that “ I admit he is wrong, but indeed, indeed, Moll, of ye king. Perhaps he did not miss me anie you are wrong too, and you were wrong first : more when I was in London, though it was true and she sayd this soe often, that at length we and naturall enough he should like to see me came to crosser words ; when Dick, calling to me agayn. We should have beene used to our separafrom below, would have me make haste, which I tion by this time ; there wo have beene nothing was glad to doe, and left Sheepscote less regrett- corroding in it. * * fullie than I had expected. Rose kist me with I pray for Robin everie night. Since he went, her gravest face. Mr. Agnew put me on my the house has lost its sunshine. When I was soe horse, and sayd, as he gave me y rein, “ Now anxious to return to Forest Hill, I never counted think! now think! even yet!” and then as I si- on his leaving it. lently rode off, “ God bless you."
I held down my head ; but at yo turn of ye Feb. 1.-Oh heaven, what would I give to see road, lookt back, and saw him and Rose watching yo skirts of Mr. Milton's garments agayn! My us from y porch. Dick cried, “ I am righte glad heart is sick unto death. I have been reading we are off at last, for father is downright crazie some of my journall, and tearing out much childaboute this businesse, and mistrustfulle of Agnew's ish nonsense at y beginning ; but coulde not deinfluence over you,”—and would have gone on stroy yo painfulle records of the last year. How railing, but I bade him for pitie's sake be quiete. unhappy a creature am I !-wearie, wearie of my
The effects of my owne follie, the losse of life, yet no ways inclined for death. Lord, have home, husband, name, the opinion of y® Agnews, mercy upon me. the opinion of ye worlde, rose up agaynst me and almost drove me mad. And, just as I was think- March 27.-I spend much of my time, now, in ing I had better lived out my dayes, and dyed ear- ye book room, and, though I essay not to pursue lie in St. Bride's Church-yarde than that alle this ye Latin, I read much English, at the least, more should have come about, the sudden recollection than I ever did in my life before ; but often I fanof what Rose had that morning tolde me, which Icy I am reading when I am onlie dreaming. Ox