_Diggory_ hath found his Way to us, alle dismaied, and bringing Dismay with him, for the Rebels have taken and ransacked our House, and turned him forthe. "A Plague on these Wars!" as _Father_ says. What are we to doe, or how live, despoyled of alle? _Father_ hath lost, one Way and another, since the Civil War broke out, three thousand Pounds, and is now nearlie beggared. _Mother_ weeps bitterlie, and _Father's_ Countenance hath fallen more than ever I saw it before. "Nine Children!" he exclaimed, just now; "and onlie one provided for!" His Eye fell upon me for a Moment, with less Tendernesse than usuall, as though he wished me in _Aldersgate Street_. I'm sure I wish I were there,--not because _Father_ is in Misfortune; oh, no. _June, 1646_. The Parliament requireth our unfortunate King to issue Orders to this and alle his other Garrisons, commanding theire Surrender; and _Father_, finding this is likelie to take Place forthwith, is busied in having himself comprised within the Articles of Surrender. 'Twill be hard indeed, shoulde this be denied. His Estate lying in the King's Quarters, howe coulde he doe less than adhere to his Majesty's Partie during this unnaturall War? I am sure _Mother_ grudged the Royalists everie Goose and Turkey they had from our Yard. _June 27, 1646_. Praised be _Heaven_, deare _Father_ hath just received Sir _Thomas Fairfax's_ Protection, empowering him quietlie and without let to goe forthe "with Servants, Horses, Arms, Goods, etc." to "_London_ or elsewhere," whithersoever he will. And though the Protection extends but over six Months, at the Expiry of which Time, _Father_ must take Measures to embark for some Place of Refuge beyond Seas, yet who knows what may turn up in those six Months! The King may enjoy his Owne agayn. Meantime, we immediatelie leave _Oxford_. _Forest Hill_. At Home agayn; and what a Home! Everiething to seeke, everiething misplaced, broken, abused, or gone altogether! The Gate off its Hinges; the Stone Balls of the Pillars overthrowne, the great Bell stolen, the clipt Junipers grubbed up, the Sun-diall broken! Not a Hen or Chicken, Duck or Duckling, left! _Crab_ half-starved, and soe glad to see us, that he dragged his Kennel after him. _Daisy_ and _Blanch_ making such piteous Moans at the Paddock Gate, that I coulde not bear it, but helped _Lettice_ to milk them. Within Doors, everie Room smelling of Beer and Tobacco; Cupboards broken upon, etc. On my Chamber Floor, a greasy steeple-crowned Hat! Threw it forthe from the Window with a Pair of Tongs. _Mother_ goes about the House weeping. _Father_ sits in his broken Arm-chair, the Picture of Disconsolateness. I see the _Agnews_, true Friends! riding hither; and with them a Third, who, methinks, is _Rose's_ Brother _Ralph_. _London. St. Martin's le Grand_.