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leave off for a Week or fo; at least, she says he did, and he says he did not, and afks her whether, if the Grafs had promised not to grow fhe

would believe it.

Poor Ellwood's Love-bonds prove rather more irksome to him than those of his Gaol; he hath renewed his Intercourfe with our Friends at the Grange, only to find a dangerous Rival stept into his Place, in the Perfon of one William Penn-in fact, I fufpect Mifttress Guli is engaged to him already. Ellwood hath been clofetted with my Father this Morning, pouring out his Woes-methinks he must have been to feek for a Confidant!

Confidant! When he came forth, the poor young Man's Eyes were red. I cannot but pity him, tho' he is fuch a Formalist.

I wish Anne were a little more demonstrative; Father would then be as affured of her Affection as of mine, and treat her with equal Tenderness. But, no, fhe cannot be; she will fitt and look piteously on his blind Face, but, alas! he cannot fee that; and when he pours forth the full Tide of Melody on his Organ, and hymns mellifluous Praise, the Tears rush to her Eyes, and fhe is oft obliged to quit the Chamber; but, alas! he knows not

that

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that. So he goes on, deeming her,

I fear me, stupid as well as filent, indifferent as well as infirm.

I am

not avised of her ever

having let him feel her Sympathy, fave when he was inditing to me his third Book, while fhe fate at her Sewing. 'Twas at these lines :

"Thus with the Year,

Seafons return; but not to me re

66

turns

Day, or the fweet Approach of Even

"or Morn,

"Or Sight of vernal Bloom or Sum

"mer's Rofe,

"Or

"Cut off: and for the Book of Know"ledge fair,

66

Prefented with an univerfal Blank."

His Brow was a little contracted, but his Face was quite composed; while fhe, on t'other Hand, with her Work dropped from her Lap, and her Eyes streaming, fate gazing on him, the Image of Woe. At length, timidly ftole to his Side, and, after hesitating

K

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1665. hefitating awhile, kiffed both his Eyelids. He caught her to him, quite taken by Surprise, and, for a Moment, both wept bitterly. This was foon put a Stop to, by Mother's coming in, with her Head full of stale Fish; howbeit Father treated Anne with uncommon Tenderness all that Evening, calling her his fweet Nan; while fhe, fhrinking back again into her Shell, was fhyer than ever. But his Spiritts were foothed rather than dafhed by this little Outbreak; and at Bedtime, he faid, even cheerfully, "Now, good"night, Girls: . . . . may it, indeed, "be as good to you as to me.

"You