vertues, but those wherein he was not excell'd by any of his owne er succeeding times. He gave my mother a noble allowance of 300l. a yeare for her owne private expence, and had given her all her owne portion to dispose of how she pleas'd, as soone as she was married; which she suffer'd to encrease in her friend's hands; and what my father allow'd her she spent not in vanities, although she had what was rich and requisite upon occasions, but she lay'd most of it out in pious and charitable uses. Sr. Walter Rawleigh and Mr. Ruthin being prisoners in the Tower, and addicting themselves to chimistrie, she suffer'd them to make their rare experiments at her cost, partly to comfort and divert the poore prisoners, and partly to gaine the knowledge of their experiments, and the medicines to helpe such poore people as were not able to seeke to phisitians. By these means she acquir'd a greate deale of skill, which was very profitable to many all her life. She was not only to these, but to all the other prisoners that came into the Tower, as a mother. All the time she dwelt in the Tower, if any were sick she made them broths and restoratives with her owne hands, visited and tooke care of them, and provided them all necessaries: If any were aflicted she comforted them, so that they felt not the inconvenience of a prison who were in that place. She was not lesse bountifull to many poore widdowes and orphans, whom officers of higher and lower rank had left behind them as objects of charity. Her owne house was fill'd with distressed families of her relations, whom she supplied and maintain❜d in a noble way.' p. 12-15.

For herself, being her mother's first daughter, unusual pains were bestowed on her education; so that, when she was seven years of age, she was attended, she informs us, by no fewer than eight several tutors. In consequence of all this, she became very grave and thoughtful; and withal very pious. But her early attainments in religion seem to have been by no means answerable to the notions of sanctity which she imbibed in her maturer years. There is something very innocent and natural in the Puritanism, of the following passage.

It pleas'd God that thro' the good instructions of my mother, and the sermons she carried me to, I was convinc'd that the knowledge of God was the most excellent study; and accordingly applied myselfe to it, and to practise as I was taught. I us'd to exhort my mother's maides much, and to turne their idle discourses to good subjects; but I thought, when I had done this on the Lord's day, and every day perform'd my due taskes of reading and praying, that then I was free to anie thing that was not sin, for I was not at that time convinc'd of the vanity of conversation which was not scandalously wicked; I thought it no sin to learne or heare wittie songs and amorous sonnetts or poems, and twenty things of that kind; wherein I was so apt that I became the confident in all the loves that were managed among my mother's young weomen, and A 4 there

there was none of them but had many lovers and some particular friends belov❜d above the rest; among these I have '-——

p. 17, 18. Here the same spirit of austerity which dictated the preceding passage, had moved the fair writer, as the editor informs us, to tear away many pages immediately following the words with which it concludes-and thus to defraud the reader of the only love story with which he had any chance of being regaled in the course of this narrative. Although Mrs Hutchinson's abhorrence of any thing like earthly or unsanctified love, has withheld her on all occasions from the insertion of any thing that related to such feelings, yet it is not difficult, we think, to perceive that she was originally constituted with an extraordinary sensibility to all powerful emotions; and that the suppression of these deep and natural impressions has given a singular warmth and animation to her descriptions of romantic and conjugal affection. In illustration of this, we may refer to the following story of her husband's grandfather and grandmother, which she recounts with much feeling and credulity. After a very ample account of their mutual love and loveliness, she proceeds

But while the incomparable mother shin'd in all the humane glorie she wisht, and had the crowne of all outward felicity to the full, in the enjoyment of the mutuall love of her most beloved husband, God in one moment tooke it away, and alienated her most excellent understanding in a difficult childbirth, wherein she brought forth two daughters which liv'd to be married, and one more that died, I think assoone or before it was borne. But after that, all the art of the best physitians in England could never restore her understanding. Yet she was not frantick, but had such a pretty deliration, that her ravings were more delightfull than other weomen's most rationall conversations. Upon this occasion her husband gave himselfe up to live retired with her, as became her condition. The daughters and the rest of the children as soon as they grew up were married and disperst. I think I have heard she had some children after that childbirth which distemper'd her, and then my lady Hutchinson must have bene one of them. I have heard her servants say, that even after her marriage, she would steale many melancholly houres to sitt and weepe in remembrance of her. Meanewhile her parents were driving on their age, in no lesse constancy of love to each other, when even that distemper which had estrang'd her mind in all things elce, had left her love and obedience entire to her husband, and he retein'd the same fondnesse and respect for her, after she was distemper'd, as when she was the glory of her age. He had two beds in one chamber, and she being a little sick, two weomen watcht by her, some time before she died. It was his custome, as soon as ever he unclos'd his eies, to aske how she did; but one night, he being as they thought in a deepe sleepe, she quietly departed towards the morning. He was that day to have gone a

hunting,

hunting, his usuall exercise for his health; and it was his custome to have his chaplaine pray with him before he went out the weomen, fearfull to surprize him with the ill newes, knowing his deare affection to her, had stollen out and acquainted the chaplaine, desiring him to informe him of it. Sr. John waking, did not that day, as was his custome, ask for her; but call'd the chaplaine to prayers, and ioyning with him, in the middst of the prayer, expir'd,-and both of them were buried together in the same grave. Whether he perceiv'd her death and would not take notice, or whether some strange sympathy in love or nature, tied up their lives in one, or whether God was pleas'd to exercise an unusuall providence towards them, preventing them both from that bitter sorrow which such separations cause, it can be but coniectur'd.' &c. p. 26-28. The same romantic and suppressed sensibility is discernible, we think, in her whole account of the origin and progress of her husband's attachment to her. As the story is in many respects extremely characteristic of the times as well as the persons to which it relates, we shall make a pretty large extract from it. Mr Hutchinson had learned, it seems, to dance and vault' with great agility, and also attained to great mastery on the violl' at the University; and, upon his return to Nottingham, in the twentieth year of his age, spent much of his time with a licentious but most accomplished gentleman, a witty but prophane physician, and a pleasant but cynical old schoolmaster. In spite of these worldly associations, however, we are assured that he was a most godly and incorruptible person; and, in particular, proof against all the allurements of the fair sex, whom he frequently reproved, but in a handsome way of raillery, for their pride and vanity. In this hopeful frame of mind, it was proposed to him to spend a few summer months at Richmond, where the young princes then held their court.

Mr. Hutchinson considering this, resolv'd to accept his offer; and that day telling a gentleman of the house whither he was going, the gentleman bid him take heed of the place, for it was so fatall for love, that never any young disengag'd person went thither, who return'd againe free. Mr. Hutchinson laught at him; but he, to confirme it, told him a very true story of a gentleman, who not long before had come for some time to lodge there, and found all the people he came in company with, bewailing the death of a gentleweman that had lived there. Hearing her so much deplor'd, he made enquiry after her, and grew so in love with the description, that no other discourse could at first please him, nor could he at last endure any other; he grew desperately melancholly, and would goe to a mount where the print of her foote was cutt, and lie there pining and kissing of it all the day long, till att length death in some months space concluded his languishment. This story was very true; but Mr. Hutchinson was neither easic to believe it, nor

frighted

frighted at the example; thinking himselfe not likely to make another. p. 37, 38.

He goes accordingly to Richmond, and boards with his musicmaster; in whose house a younger sister of his future wife happened then to be placed, she herself having gone into Wiltshire with her mother, with some expectation of being married before her return.

This gentlewoman, that was left in the house with Mr Hutchinson, was a very child, her elder sister being at that time scarcely past it, but a child of such pleasantnesse and vivacity of spiritt, and ingenuity in the quallity she practis'd, that Mr. Hutchinson tooke pleasure in hearing her practise, and would fall in discourse with her. She having the keyes of her mother's house, some halfe a mile distant, would some times aske Mr Hutchinson, when she went over to walk along with her: one day when he was there, looking upon an odde byshelf, in her sister's closett, he found a few Latine bookes ; asking whose they were, he was told they were her elder sister's, whereupon, enquiring more after her, he began first to be sorrie she was gone, before he had seene her, and gone upon such an account, that he was not likely to see her; then he grew to love to heare mention of her; and the other gentleweomen who had bene her companions, used to talke much to him of her, telling him how reserv'd and studious she was, and other things which they esteem'd no advantage; but it so much inflam'd Mr Hutchinson's desire of seeing her, that he began to wonder at himselfe, that his heart, which had ever had such an indifferency for the most excellent of weomenkind, should have so strong impulses towards a stranger he never saw.

While he was exercis'd in this, many days past not, but a footeboy of my lady her mothers came to young Mrs. Apsley as they were at dinner, bringing newes that her mother and sister would in few dayes return; and when they enquir'd of him, whether Mrs. Apsley was married; having before bene instructed to make them believe it, he smiled, and pull'd out some bride laces, which were given at a wedding, in the house where she was, and gave them to the young gentlewoman and the gentleman's daughter of the house, and told them Mrs. Apsley bade him tell no news, but give them those tokens, and carried the matter so, that all the companie believ'd she had bene married. Mr. Hutchinson immediately turned pale as ashes, and felt a fainting to seize his spiritts, in that extraordinary manner, that finding himselfe ready to sinke att table, he was faine to pretend something had offended his stomach, and to retire from the table, into the garden, where the gentleman of the house going with him, it was not necessary for him to feigne sicknesse, for the distemper of his mind had infected his body with a cold sweate and such a dispersion of spiritt, that all the courage he could at present recollect was little enough to keep him allive. While she so ran in his thoughts, meeting the boy againe, he found out, upon a little stricter examination of him, that she was not married, and pleas'd himselfe in the

hopes

hopes of her speedy returne, when one day, having bene invited by one of the ladies of that neighbourhood, to a noble treatement at Sion Garden, which a courtier, that was her servant, had made for her and whom she would bring, Mr. Hutchinson, Mrs. Apsley, and Mr. Coleman's daughter were of the partie, and having spent the day in severall pleasant divertisements, att evening they were att supper, when a messenger came to tell Mrs. Apsley her mother was come. She would immediately have gone, but Mr. Hutchinson, pretending civillity to conduct her home, made her stay 'till the supper was ended, of which he eate no more, now only longing for that sight, which he had with such perplexity expected. This at length he obtained; but his heart being prepossesst with his owne fancy, was not free to discerne how little there was in her to answer so greate an expectation. She was not ugly,-in a carelesse riding-habitt, she had a melancholly negligence both of herselfe and others, as if she neither affected to please others, nor tooke notice of anie thing before her; yet spite of all her indifferency, she was surpriz'd with some unusuall liking in her soule, when she saw this gentleman, who had haire, eies, shape, and countenance enough to begett love in any one at the first, and these sett of with a gracefull and generous mine, which promis'd an extraordinary person. Although he had but an evening sight of her he had so long desir'd, and that at disadvantage enough for her, yett the prevailing sympathie of his soule, made him thinke all his paynes well payd, and this first did whett his desire to a second sight, which he had by accident the next day, and to his ioy found she was wholly disengag'd from that treaty, which he so much fear'd had been accomplisht; he found withall, that though she was modest, she was accostable and willing to entertaine his acquaintance. This soone past into a mutuall friendship betweene them, and though she innocently thought nothing of love, yet was she glad to have acquir'd such a friend, who had wisedome and vertue enough to be trusted with her councells. Mr Hutchinson, on the other side, having bene told, and seeing how she shun'd all other men, and how civilly she entertain'd him, believ'd that a secret power had wrought a mutuall inclination betweene them, and dayly frequented her mother's house, and had the opportunitie of conversing with her in those pleasant walkes, which, at that sweete season of the spring, invited all the neighbouring inhabitants to seeke their ioyes; where, though they were never alone, yet they had every day opertunity for converse with each other, which the rest shar'd not in, while every one minded their owne delights.' p. 38-44.

Here the lady breaks off her account of this romantic courtship, as of matters that are to be forgotten as the vanities of youth, and not worthy mention among the greater transactions of their lives.’The consent of parents having been obtained on both sides, she was married at the age of eighteen.

That day that the friends on both sides met to conclude the marriage, she fell sick of the small pox, which was many wayes a

greate