Life flows away here in such unmarked Tranquilitie, that one hath Nothing whereof to write, or to remember what distinguished one Day from another. I am sad, yet not dulle; methinks I have grown some Yeares older since I came here. I can fancy elder Women feeling much as I doe now. I have Nothing to desire. Nothing to hope, that is likelie to come to pass--Nothing to regret, except I begin soe far back, that my whole Life hath neede, as 'twere, to begin over agayn. . . . Mr. _Agnew_ translates to us Portions of _Thuanus_ his Historie, and the Letters of _Theodore Bexa_, concerning the _French_ Reformed Church; oft prolix, yet interesting, especially with Mr. _Agnew's_ Comments, and Allusions to our own Time. On the other Hand, _Rose_ reads _Davila_, the sworne Apologiste of _Catherine de' Medicis_, whose charming _Italian_ even I can comprehende; but alle is false and plausible. How sad, that the wrong Partie shoulde be victorious! Soe it may befall in this Land; though, indeede, I have hearde soe much bitter Rayling on bothe Sides, that I know not which is right. The Line of Demarcation is not soe distinctly drawn, methinks, as 'twas in _France_. Yet it cannot be right to take up Arms agaynst constituted Authorities?--Yet, and if those same Authorities abuse their Trust? Nay, Women cannot understand these Matters, and I thank Heaven they need not. Onlie, they cannot help siding with those they love; and sometimes those they love are on opposite Sides. Mr. _Agnew_ sayth, the secular Arm shoulde never be employed in spirituall Matters, and that the _Hugenots_ committed a grave Mistake in choosing Princes and Admirals for their Leaders, insteade of simple Preachers with Bibles in their hands; and he askt, "did _Luther_ or _Peter_ the Hermit most manifestlie labour with the Blessing of _God_?" . . . I have noted the Heads of Mr. _Agnew's_ Readings, after a Fashion of _Rose's_, in order to have a shorte, comprehensive Account of the Whole; and this hath abridged my journalling. It is the more profitable to me of the two, changes the sad Current of Thought, and, though an unaccustomed Task, I like it well. _Saturday_. On _Monday_, I return to _Forest Hill_. I am well pleased to have yet another _Sheepscote_ Sabbath. To-day we had the rare Event of a Dinner-guest; soe full of what the Rebels are doing, and alle the Horrors of Strife, that he seemed to us quiete Folks, like the Denizen of another World. _Forest Hill, August 3, 1644_.