These humourous Retorts are ever at her Tongue's end; and albeit, as _Jacky_ one Day angrilie remarked when she had beene teazing him, "_Bess_, thy Witt is Stupidnesse;" yet, for one who talks soe much at Random, no one can be more keene when she chooseth. _Father_ sayd of her, half fondly, half apologeticallie, to _Erasmus_, "Her Wit hath a fine Subtletie that eludes you almoste before you have Time to recognize it for what it really is." To which _Erasmus_ readilie assented, adding, that it had the rare Meritt of playing less on Persons than Things, and never on bodilie Defects. Hum!--I wonder if they ever sayd as much in Favour of me. I know, indeede, _Erasmus_ calls me a forward Girl. Alas! that may be taken in two Senses. Grievous Work, overnighte, with the churning. Nought would persuade _Gillian_ but that the Creame was bewitched by _Gammer Gurney_, who was dissatisfyde last Friday with her Dole, and hobbled away mumping and cursing. At alle Events, the Butter would not come; but _Mother_ was resolute not to have soe much good Creame wasted; soe sent for _Bess_ and me, _Daisy_ and _Mercy Giggs_; and insisted on our churning in turn till the Butter came, if we sate up alle Night for 't. 'Twas a hard Saying; and mighte have hampered her like as _Jephtha_ his rash Vow: howbeit, soe soone as she had left us, we turned it into a Frolick, and sang _Chevy Chase_ from end to end, to beguile Time; ne'erthelesse, the Butter would not come; soe then we grew sober, and, at the Instance of sweete _Mercy_, chaunted the 119th Psalme; and, by the Time we had attained to "_Lucerna Pedibus_," I hearde the Buttermilk separating and splashing in righte earneste. 'Twas neare Midnighte, however; and _Daisy_ had fallen asleep on the Dresser. _Gillian_ will ne'er be convinced but that our Latin brake the Spell. _21st._ _Erasmus_ went to _Richmond_ this Morning with _Polus_, (for soe he Latinizes _Reginald Pole_, after his usual Fashion,) and some other of his Friends. On his Return, he made us laugh at the following. They had clomb the Hill, and were admiring the Prospect, when _Pole_, casting his Eyes aloft, and beginning to make sundrie Gesticulations, exclaimed, "What is it I beholde? May Heaven avert the Omen!" with suchlike Exclamations, which raised the Curiositie of alle. "Don't you beholde," cries he, "that enormous Dragon flying through the Sky? his Horns of Fire? his curly Tail?" "No," says _Erasmus_, "nothing like it. The Sky is as cleare as unwritten Paper." Howbeit, he continued to affirme and to stare, untill at lengthe, one after another, by dint of strayning theire Eyes and theire Imaginations, did admitt, first, that they saw Something; next, that it mighte be a Dragon; and last, that it was. Of course, on theire Passage homeward, they could talk of little else--some made serious Reflections; others, philosophicall Speculations; and _Pole_ waggishly triumphed in having beene the Firste to discerne the Spectacle.