to bear cruelty and mocking along with some melancholy inward fight of afflictions—and came away home with a heavy heart. Could not get speech with the abbot, who was busy looking to the monks’ beds, that they were not too soft. 1342. _New Year’s Day._—Public notice given, that in three days Tauler will preach once more. The news makes great talk. My heart sings jubilate thereat. I look back on two weary years that he has now been hidden from those who so need him. I have confessed to no one the while—somehow, could not to any other—yet I fear me such neglect is a sin. Those like-minded with Tauler have been busy among us in their work of love, but the master-spirit is sorely missed, notwithstanding. One Ludolph of Saxony, who was a Dominican, and has come over hither from Cologne lately, to be prior of the new Carthusian convent, has been a great blessing unto us. He speaks out boldly against abuses, and persuades men tenderly to follow Christ carrying the cross. Bishop Berthold quieter of late; finds it prudent to keep on better terms at present with the emperor. Little Hans a month old to-day. A household of now five children. Henry of great service to me. Think sometimes of leaving the business with him almost altogether, if only to have him near. Margarita not again ill since the first times of the interdict. A great mercy! Getting richer yet, and tremble sometimes lest it should ensnare my soul, therefore, I disencumber myself at intervals of considerable sums for sick and poor folk. Must bear in mind Tauler’s counsel to use and enjoy everything intending God therein. Find my affections go forth much—I hope not too much—towards this last babe. He thrives well; verily, no child could be more unlike the blessed St. Nicholas, of whom I have heard a friar say that, when hanging on his mother’s breast, he fasted Wednesdays and Fridays, and could not be brought to suck more than once a day. But if I stay to number up my blessings, I shall have a list longer than the curse-roll of the Pope. God give me an unworldly, thankful, watchful spirit! 1342. _January 6._—Alas! that I should have to write what now I must! I forced a way into the crowded church—every part filled with people, wedged in below so that they could not move, clustered like bees where they had climbed above into every available place, and a dense mass in the porch besides. The Doctor came, looking woefully ill, changed as I scarce ever saw a man, to live. He mounted the lectorium, held his cap before his eyes, and said: ‘O merciful and eternal God, if it be thy will, give me so to speak that thy divine name may be praised and honoured, and these men bettered thereby.’