Father knoweth, though he cannot fee, that her Face is that of an Angel. About One o' the Clock, was rouzed (though Anne continued fleeping foundly) by hearing Father give his three Signal-taps agaynst the Wall. Half dreft, and with bare Feet thrust into Slippers, I haftily ran in to him; he cried, "Deb, for the Love "of Heaven get Pen and Paper to "fett Something down." I replied, "Sure, Father, you gave me quite a "Turn; I thought you were ill,"” and fett to my Tafk, marvellous illconditioned, expecting fome Crotchet had 1665. 1665. had taken him concerning his Will. 'Stead of which, out comes a Volley of Poetry he had lain a brewing till his Brain was like to burft; and foe I, in my thin Night Cotes, must needs jot it all down, for Feare it should ooze away before Morning. Sure, I thought he never would get to the End, and really feared at firste he was crazing a little, but indeede all Poets doe when the Vein is on 'em. At length, with a Sigh of Relief, he fays, "That will doe-Good-night, "little Maid." I coulde not help faying, ""Twas a lucky Thing for "you, Father, that Step-mother was "from "from Home;" he laught, drew me to him, kiffed me, and fayd, "Why, "your Face is quite cold—are your Feet unflippered?" 66 Unstockinged," I replyed. "I am quite concerned I knew it "not fooner," he rejoyned, in an Accent of fuch Kindneffe, that all my Vexation melted away, and I e'en protested I did not mind it a Bit. "Since it is foe," quoth he, "I "shall the less mind having Recourse "to you agayn; onlie I must infift "on your taking Care to wrap "yourself up more warmly, fince "you need not feare my being "ill.” 1665. I 1665. I bit my Lip, and onlie faying Good-night, ftole off to my warm Bed. Returning from Morning Prayers with Anne this Forenoon, I found Mary mending a Pen with the utmofte Imperturbabilitie, and Father with a Heat-spot on his Cheek, which betraied fome Inquietation. Being presentlie alone with him, Mary is irretrievably heavy," fighs he, "she would let the finest Thought 66 escape one while she is blowing her "Nose or brushing up the Cinders. "I am confident fhe has beene writ "ing Nonfenfe even now-Do run "through "answer me one Question-What is 66 a Rhomb?" "A Rhomb, Child?" repeated he, laughing, "why, a Parallelogram or quadrangular Figure, confifting of 66 parallel Lines, with two acute and "two obtufe Angles, and formed by “two equal and righte Cones, joyned 66 together at their Bafe! There, are "you anie wifer now? No, little "Maid, 'tis beft for fuch as you Not with perplexing Thoughts To interrupt the Sweet of Life, from which God hath bid dwell far off all anxious Cares, C And 1665. |