Speech with me aside concerning Housewifery. The Agnews there, of course: alsoe Mr. Milton, whom we have seene continuallie, lately; and I know not how it shoulde be, but he seemeth to like me. Father affects him much, but Mother loveth him not. She hath seene little of him : perhaps the less the better. Ralph Hewlett, as usuall, forward in his rough Endeavours to please; but, though no Scholar, I have yet Sense enough to prefer Mr. Milton's Discourse to his. I wish I were

fonder of Studdy; but, since it cannot be, what need to vex? Some are born of one Mind, some of another. Rose was alwaies for her Booke; and, had Rose beene no Scholar, Mr. Agnew woulde, may be, never have given her a second Thoughte: but alle are not of the same Way of thinking.

A few Lines received from Mother's "spoilt Boy," as Father hath called Brother Bill, ever since he went a soldiering. Blurred and mis-spelt as they are, she will prize them. Trulie, we are none of us

grate

grate hands at the Pen; 'tis well I make this my Copie-booke.

Oh, strange Event ! Can this be Happinesse? Why, then, am I soe feared, soe mazed, so prone to weeping? I woulde that Mother were here. Lord have Mercie on me a sinfulle, sillie Girl, and guide my Steps arighte.

It seemes like a Dreame, (I have done noughte but dreame of late, I think,) my going along the matted Passage, and hearing Voices in my Father's Chamber, just as my Hand was on the Latch; and my withdrawing my Hand, and going softlie away, though I never paused at disturbing him before; and, after I had beene a full Houre in the stille Room, turning over ever soe manie Trays full of dried Herbs and Flower-leaves, hearing him come forthe and call, Moll, deare "Moll, where are you?" with I know not what of strange in the Tone of his Voice; and my running to him hastilie, and his drawing me into his Chamber, and closing the Doore. Then he takes

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me round the Waiste, and remains quite silent awhile; I gazing on him so strangelie and at length, he says with a Kind of Sigh, “Thou art indeed but young yet! scarce seventeen, and fresh, as "Mr. Milton says, as the earlie May; too 'tender, forsooth, to leave us yet, sweet "Child! But what wilt say, Moll, when "I tell thee that a well-esteemed Gentleman, whom as yet indeed I know too "little of, hath craved of me Access to the "House as one that woulde win your "Favour?"

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Thereupon, such a suddain Faintness of the Spiritts overtooke me, (a Thing I am noe way subject to,) as that I fell down in a Swound at Father's Feet; and when I came to myselfe agayn, my Hands and Feet seemed full of Prickles, and there was a Humming, as of Rose's Bees, in mine Ears. Lettice and Margery were tending of me, and Father watching me full of Care; but soe soone as he saw me open mine Eyes, he bade the Maids stand aside, and sayd, stooping over me, "Enough,

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Enough, dear Moll; we will talk noe "more of this at present." "Onlie just

"tell me," quoth I, in a Whisper, "who "it is." "Guesse," sayd he. "I cannot,' I softlie replied; and, with the Lie, came such a Rush of Blood to my Cheeks as betraied me. "I am sure you have "though," said deare Father, gravelie, " and I neede not say it is Mr. Milton, of "whome I know little more than you doe, "and that is not enough. On the other hand, Roger Agnew sayth that he is one "of whome we can never know too

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much, and there is somewhat about "him which inclines me to believe it." "What will Mother say?" interrupted I. Thereat Father's Countenance changed; and he hastilie answered, "Whatever she "likes: I have an Answer for her, and a Question too;" and abruptlie left me, bidding me keepe myselfe quiet.

But can I? Oh, no! Father hath sett a Stone rolling, unwitting of its Course. It hath prostrated me in the first Instance, and will, I misdoubt, hurt my Mother. Father

Father is bold enow in her Absence, but when she comes back will leave me to face her Anger alone; or else, make such a Stir to shew that he is not governed by a Woman, as wille make Things worse. Meanwhile, how woulde I have them? Am I most pleased or payned? dismayed or flattered? Indeed, I know not.

I am soe sorry to have swooned. Needed I have done it, merelie to heare there was one who soughte my Favour? Aye, but one so wise! so thoughtfulle! so unlike me!

Bedtime; same Daye.

HO knoweth what a Daye will bring forth? After writing the above, I sate like one stupid, ruminating on I know not what, except

on the Unlikelihood that

one soe wise woulde trouble himselfe to seeke for aught and yet fail to win. After abiding a long Space in mine owne Chamber,