running towards them, through ever so manie greene Paths, in the Wood; but still, we coulde never meet; and I began to see grinning Faces, neither of Man nor Beaste, peeping at me through the Trees; and one and another of them called me by Name; and in greate Feare and Paine I awoke! . . . Strange Things are Dreames. Dear _Mother_ thinks much of them, and sayth they oft portend coming Events. My _Father_ holdeth the Opinion that they are rather made up of what hath alreadie come to passe; but surelie naught like this Dreame of mine hath in anie Part befallen me hithertoe? . . . What strange Fable or Masque were they reading that Day at _Sheepscote_? I mind not. _May 20th, 1643_. Too much busied of late to write, though much hath happened which I woulde fain remember. Dined at _Shotover_ yesterday. Met _Mother_, who is coming Home in a Day or two; but helde short Speech with me aside concerning Housewifery. The _Agnews_ there, of course: alsoe Mr. _Milton_, whom we have seene continuallie, lately; and I know not how it shoulde be, but he seemeth to like me. _Father_ affects him much, but _Mother_ loveth him not. She hath seene little of him: perhaps the less the better. _Ralph Hewlett_, as usuall, forward in his rough endeavours to please; but, though no Scholar, I have yet Sense enough to prefer Mr. _Milton's_ Discourse to his. . . . I wish I were fonder of Studdy; but, since it cannot be, what need to vex? Some are born of one Mind, some of another. _Rose_ was alwaies for her Booke; and, had _Rose_ beene no Scholar, Mr. _Agnew_ woulde, may be, never have given her a second Thoughte: but alle are not of the same Way of thinking. . . . A few Lines received from _Mother's_ "spoilt Boy," as _Father_ hath called Brother _Bill_, ever since he went a soldiering. Blurred and mis-spelt as they are, she will prize them. Trulie, we are none of us grate hands at the Pen; 'tis well I make this my Copie-booke. . . . Oh, strange Event! Can this be Happinesse? Why, then, am I soe feared, soe mazed, soe prone to weeping? I woulde that _Mother_ were here. Lord have Mercie on me a sinfulle, sillie Girl, and guide my Steps arighte.