Rosamond is sociable with alle, and mightilie taken with my husband, who, in his grave way, jests with her pleasantlie enough. Daisy, who seldom thinks anything worth giving an opinion on, said yestereven, when they were bantering eache other in Robin Hood's Walk, "I'm glad, Meg, she fancies your husband insteade of mine." 'Twas a foolish speech, and had better have beene left unsaid. What a pity that folks who say soe little shoulde say aught amiss. I have noe jealousy in my composition. * * * * * Father, hearing little Tom Allington hammering over y^e 34th Psalm this morning,-- "Child," says he, "don't say O! as unemphaticallie as if 'twere A, E, I, or U. David is labouring to expresse a thoughte too big for utterance.... '_Oh_,--_taste_ and _see_ that the Lord is good.' Try it agayn. That's better, my little man. Yet once more." I'm glad Rosamond is going. That tiresome saying of Daisy's rankles. A poisoned shaft will infect the soundest flesh. What a pity we ever use such. I never will. * * * * * Yes, she's gone, but Will is not happy. Oh, God, that I should ever know this feeling! We can never be sure of ourselves; we can never be sure of one another; we can never be sure of any but Thee. For Thou art love itself, without a shadowe of turning; and dost even condescend, in Thine exquisite tendernesse, to call Thyself a _jealous_ God ... for of whom are we jealous but of those whom we passionately love? And such is the love, not the sternnesse, wherewith Thou sayest unto our souls, "Thou _shalt_ not love any God but me! thou _shalt_ not make to thyself anie earthlie idol! for I the Lord _thy_ God am ... a _jealous_ God,"--I cannot bear a rival on my throne, which is your heart. Love me firste, him next, even as much as you love yourself; and then I will bless you both. Fecisti nos, etc. * * * * * Sancta mater, ora pro nobis, ora, ora. Alas! am I awake, or dreaming still? He beganne to talk indistinctlie in his sleep last night, and as I cannot beare to heare people speak when they sleep but their heart waketh, I gently shooke him, and made him turn about; but not until that he had distinctlie exclaimed, "Tu, Jesu, es justicia mea." Thereon, a suddain light broke in on me, and I felt, I know not how to expresse what sense of relief, at the apprehension that his disquietation was not for Rosamond, but on y^e old count of justification by faith. Waking up, he says,--"Oh, sweet Meg, I am soe unhappy," and gives way to tears; but I try to relieve him. But the matter is too hard for me; we cannot unravel it, soe he holds his peace, and sleeps, or affects to sleep, the while I pray to every saint in y^e calendar. I am glad I did him injustice; which is a strange thing for a wife to say. * * * * * How many, many tears have I shed! Poor, imprudent Will!