for mortal Sight, spun from Mind to Mind,
which the least Breath of Discord rudely breaks. You owe to your Mother
a Daughter's Reverence; and if you behave like a Child, you must look to
be punisht like a Child."

"I am not a mere Baby, neither," I said.

"No," he replied. "I see you can make Distinction between _Teknia_ and
_Paidia_; but a Baby is the more inoffensive and less responsible Agent
of the two. If you are content to be a Baby in Grace, you must not
contend for a Baby's Immunities. I have heard a Baby cry pretty loudly
about a Pin."

This shut my Mouth close enough.

"You are now," he added gently, "nearly as old as your Mother was when I
married her."

I said, "I fear I am not much like her."

He said nothing, only smiled. I made bold to pursue:--"What was she
like?"

Again he was silent, at least for a Minute; and then, in quite a changed
Tone, with somewhat hurried in it, cried,--

"Like the fresh Sweetbriar and early May!
Like the fresh, cool, pure Air of opening Day . . .
Like the gay Lark, sprung from the glittering Dew . . .
An Angel! yet . . . a very Woman too!"

And, kicking back his Chair, he got up, and began to walk hastily about
the Chamber, as fearlessly as he always does when he is thinking of
something else, I springing up to move one or two Chairs out of his Way.
Hearing some high Voices in the Offices, he presently observed, "A
contentious Woman is like a continuall Dropping. _Shakspeare_ spoke well
when he said that a sweet, low Voice is an excellent Thing in Woman. I
wish you good Women would recollect that one Avenue of my Senses being
stopt, makes me keener to any Impression on the others. Where Strife is,
there is Confusion and every evil Work. Why should not we dwell in
Peace, in this quiet little Nest, instead of rendering our Home liker to
a Cage of unclean Birds?"

_Bunhill Fields, London, Oct. 1666_.

People have phansied Appearances of Armies in the Air, flaming Swords,
Fields of Battle, and other Images; and, truly, the Evening before we
left _Chalfont_, methought I beheld the Glories of the ancient City
_Ctesiphon_ in the Sunset Clouds, with gilded Battlements, conspicuous
far--Turrets, and Terraces, and glittering Spires. The light-armed
_Parthians_ pouring through the Gates, in Coats of Mail, and military
Pride. In the far Perspective of the open Plain, two ancient Rivers, the
one winding, t'other straight, losing themselves in the glow