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nates; the girls make a noise; and I lend a little of my time to any one that seems to want it. How well I pass the hours in which I am not serviceable to others, I am no good judge. The conclusion of this year with this day, puts me in mind to wish you happiness with all imaginable joy the next.

I am, &c.

To Lady Tuke.

April, 1685.

How to express the sorrow for parting with so dear, a child is a difficult task. She was welcome to me from the first moment God gave her, acceptable through the whole course of her life by a thousand endearments, by the gifts of nature, by acquired parts, by the tender love she ever showed her father and me: a thread of piety accompanied all her actions, and now proves our greatest consolation. The patience, resignation, humility of her carriage in so severe and fatal a disease, discovered more than an ordinary assistance of the Divine goodness, never expressing fear of death, or a desire to live, but for her friends' sake. The seventh day of her illness she discoursed to me in particular as calmly as in health, desired to confess, and receive the blessed Sacrament, which she performed with great devotion; after which, though in her perfect senses to the last, she never signified the least concern for the world, prayed often, and resigned her soul. What shall I say! She was too great a blessing for me, who never deserved anything, much less such a jewel. I am too well assured of your Ladyship's kindness to doubt the part you take in this loss; you have ever showed yourself a friend in so many instances, that I presume upon your compassion; nothing but this just occasion could have hindered me from welcoming you to town, and rejoicing with the best friend I have in the world—a friend by merit and inclination, one I must esteem as the wife of so worthy a relation and so sincere a friend as Sir Samuel was to me and mine. What is this world when we recall past things! what are the charms that keep our minds in suspense! without the conversation of those we love, what is life worth ! How did I propose happiness this summer in the return of your Ladyship and my dear child—for she was absent almost all this winters

She had much improved herself by the remarks she had made of the world and all its vanities—what shall I adds I could ever speak of her, and might I be just to her without suspicion of partiality, could tell you many things. The papers which are found in her cabinet discover she profited by her reading—such reflections, collections out of Scripture, confessions, meditations, and pious notions, evidence her time was not spent in the trifling way of most young women. ... I acknowledge, as a Christian, I ought not to murmur, and I should be infinitely sorry to incur God's further displeasure. There are those yet remaining that challenge my care, and for their sakes I endeavour to submit all I can. I thank my poor Cousin a thousand times for her kind concern, and wish she may live to be the comfort you deserve in her, that God will continue the blessing o and make you happy—which is the prayer of her Who is

Yours, most affectionately,

[To these letters of Mrs. Evelyn, may be subjoined two letters which have come into the Editor's possession since the volume containing her husband's correspondence was printed, but which so agreeably illustrate Evelyn's habits and intercourse with his neighbours and friends that it is worth including them in this collection.]

Mrs. Owen to John Evelyn.

Eltham, June 26, 1680. HoNou RED SIR,

I am heartily sorry that I forced you to buy tulips for your fine garden. Imust confess your guineas look more glorious than now these tulips do; but, when they come to blow, I hope you will be better pleased than now you are. I have sent you some of my ordinary sort, and, sir, when mine are blown, if you please to come and see them, Mr. Evelyn shall buy no more, but have what he pleases for nothing. I am so well pleased with those that I have, that I shall neither buy more, nor part with any, unless it be to yourself.

I cannot, sir, send my husband's service to you, because I do not acquaint him with my trading for tulips. Sir John Shaw I cannot yet speak with (being taken up so much with visitors), as to know his mind about a gardener. Sir, I now beg your pardon for my rude lines, and desire you to assure yourself, that my husband and I, upon any occasion, shall be alway ready either to ride or go to serve you or yours. Thus having no more, but desiring to have my service to yourself, your lady, and Sir Richard Browne, and your beloved progeny, I shall take leave, and subscribe myself,

Your most humble servant, to command,
A My OWEN.

John Evelyn to Mrs. Owen.

June 26, 1680. Mon AMy (that is, My Friend),

I am not so well pleased with Mrs. Owen's letter as with her tulips, because I am assured there must needs be some mistake, and that my gardener (who, perhaps, does not care that I should purchase anything but through his hands and in the common manner), as was to tell you that I would come myself and make friends with you, did leave that out. Can you ever imagine that I looked on your kindness as an imposing on me? Sure, you know me better than to think so; and that when I told you flowers of less value would better become my poor garden, it was neither to save my money nor reproach your merchandize, But I assure you I not only thank you for [them], but shall condemn you for a very unwise woman if you should forbear to continue a traffic which is so innocent, so laudable, and so frequent even among very great persons, You and I, therefore, must come to a better understanding upon this chapter. In the meantime I had a good mind to have sent you your last present back again, till all this had been cleared; for I do not love to be overcome in point of generosity, though I see that for this present I must be. You seem to think I complained I had not full measure, and think now to make it up by overwhelming me with your kindness. This is a revenge that I cannot long endure, as you shall be sure to find, the first opportunity I can lay hold on. In the meantime I thank you most heartily for all your good intentions, and the kind offices which both you and the Doctor have ever been ready to do me. Sir Jo. Shaw did us the honour of a visit on Thursday last, when it was not my hap to be at home, for which I was very sorry. I met him since casually in London, and kissed him there unfeignedly. Ichided myself that I was not there to receive him. Two of our coach-horses are still so lame, that we have not been able to stir out this fortnight; but so soon as they are in very tolerable condition, my wife and I will not fail of kissing your hands, and repaying this civility to Sir John; and so with our best respects to you and your Doctor, We remain, &c.

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