If I had Paper, I woulde beginne my projected Opus; but I dare not ask Gunnel for anie more just yet; nor have anie Money to buy Some. I wish I had a couple of Angels. I think I shall write to Father for them to-morrow; he alwaies likes to heare from us if he is twenty-four Hours absent, providing we conclude not with "I have Nothing more to say."
July 4th.
I have writ my Letter to Father. I almoste wish, now, that I had not sent it.
Rupert and Will still full of theire Moralitie, which reallie has some Fun in it. To ridicule the Extravagance of those who, as the Saying is, carry theire Farms and Fields on theire Backs, William proposes to come in, all verdant, with a reall Model of a Farm on his Back, and a Windmill on his Head.
July 5th.
How sweete, how gracious an Answer from Father! John Harris has broughte me with it the two Angels; less prized than this Epistle.
July 10th.
