he House; but
now, though you are more staid than of former Time, I find you a better
Companion than ever. This last Visitt to _Sheepscote_ hath evened your
Spiritts."

Poor _Father_! he knew not how I lay awake and wept last Night, for one
I shall never see agayn, nor how the Terrace Walk minded me of him. My
Spiritts may seem even, and I exert myself to please; but, within, all
is dark Shade, or at best, grey Twilight; and my Spiritts are, in Fact,
worse here than they were at _Sheepscote_, because, here, I am
continuallie thinking of one whose Name is never uttered; whereas,
there, it was mentioned naturallie and tenderlie, though sadly. . . .

I will forthe to see some of the poor Folk.

_Same Night_.

Resolved to make the Circuit of the Cottages, but onlie reached the
first, wherein I found poor _Nell_ in such Grief of Body and Mind, that
I was avised to wait with her a long Time. Askt why she had not sent
to us for Relief; was answered she had thought of doing soe, but was
feared of making too free. After a lengthened Visitt, which seemed to
relieve her Mind, and certaynlie relieved mine, I bade her Farewell,
and at the Wicket met my Father coming up with a playn-favoured but
scholarlike looking reverend Man. He sayd, "_Moll_, I could not think
what had become of you." I answered, I hoped I had not kept him
waiting for Dinner--poor _Nell_ had entertayned me longer than I wisht,
with the Catalogue of her Troubles. The Stranger looking attentively
at me, observed that may be the poor Woman had entertayned an Angel
unawares; and added, "Doubt not, Madam, we woulde rather await our
Dinner than that you should have curtayled your Message of Charity."
Hithertoe, my Father had not named this Gentleman to me; but now he
sayd, "Child, this is the Reverend Doctor _Jeremy Taylor_, Chaplain in
Ordinarie to his Majesty, and whom you know I have heard more than once
preach before the King since he abode in _Oxford_." Thereon I made a
lowly Reverence, and we walked homewards together. At first, he
discoursed chiefly with my Father on the Troubles of the Times, and
then he drew me into the Dialogue, in the Course of which I let fall a
Saying of Mr. _Agnew's_, which drew from the reverend Gentleman a
respectfulle Look I felt I no Way deserved. Soe then I had to explain
that the Saying was none of mine, and felt ashamed he shoulde suppose
me wiser than I was, especiallie as he commended my Modesty. But we
progre