Edmund Andrews, for sea fisshe . . . . . . . £0. ivs. xd.
John Earle, for spice. . . . . . . . . . . . ixs. ixd.
Thomas Smith, dried ling . . . . . . . . . . vs. iiiid.
Mistress Ashe, a webbe of white hollands . . xivs.
John Earle, spices, dates and almond . . . . £0. is. xd.
Mistress Ashe, needles, silk and thread. . . viiis.
Mistress Ashe, a webbe of fine diaper. . . . xls. ixd.
[CHAPTER I.]
I SUPPOSE I had better begin by telling how I came by this book, though that is not the beginning either, but perhaps it will do as well as any other to start from. Dear Mother says I am to write a chronicle of my life, as it seems some ladies of our family have done before me. So here I begin by first putting the date:
St. Swithin's Day, in the year of Grace, 1529.
Dear Mother Superior was in the library this morning, looking at the work I have been helping Sister Gertrude to finish, of putting the books in order, and writing out a fair list of them. Sister Gertrude cannot write on account of her eyes, and she does not know Latin, and as I do, and can write a fair hand, I was able to help her, which pleased us both well.
[I do shrewdly suspect there was another hindrance more vital than the dear Sister's eyes, but I would not have hinted such a thing for the world. If she did not know writing, she knew many another thing better worth knowing.] *
Well, Mother Superior did commend our diligence, and gave Sister Gertrude much praise, which she in turn transferred to me, at which Sister Catherine, who must be on hand as usual, exclaimed:
"What holy humility Sister Gertrude shows!"
"Nay, I thought not of humility, but only of justice, and giving the child her due," answered Sister Gertrude.
"I fear 'twill be long before our dear young Rosamond emulates your example," continued Sister Catherine, as if Sister Gertrude had not spoken. "I fear her gifts are but a snare to her in that respect. Dear Rosamond, remember nothing was so dear to St. Frances as humility."