“On asking Mr. Gunnel to what use I sd put this fair libellus, he did suggest my making it a kinde of family register, wherein to note ye more important of our domestic passages, whether of joy or griefe—my father’s journies and absences—the visits of learned men, theire notable sayings, etc. ‘You art smart at the pen, Mistress Margaret,’ he was pleased to say; ‘and I would humblie advise your journalling in ye same fearless manner in the which you framed that letter which soe well pleased the Bishop of Exeter, that he sent you a Portugal piece. ’Twill be well to write it in English, which ’tis expedient for you not altogether to negleckt, even for the more honorable Latin.’
“Methinks I am close upon womanhood. . . . . ‘Humblie advise,’ quotha! to me, that hath so oft humblie sued for his pardon, and sometimes in vain.
“ ’Tis well to make trial of Gonellus his ‘humble’ advice: albeit, our daylie course is so methodicall, that ’twill afford scant subject for ye pen—Vitam continet una dies.”
Here, again, we are introduced to the younger members of the household in their moments of home-merriment and simple occupations, as usual at that unsophisticated day, before fear or grief fell upon their happy circle—and what was ever writ more naturally and unaffectedly?
“This morn, hinting to Bess that she was lacing herselfe too straightlie, she brisklie replyed, ‘One wd think ’twere as great meritt to have a thick waiste as to be one of ye earlie Christians!’
“These humourous retorts are ever at her tongue’s end; and, albeit, as Jacky one day angrilie remarked, when she had beene teazing him, ‘Bess, thy witt is stupidnesse;’ yet, for one who talks soe much at random, no one can be more keene when she chooseth. Father sayd of her, half fondly, half apologeticallie to Erasmus. ‘Her wit has a fine subtletie that eludes you almoste before you have time to recognize it for what it really is.’ To which, Erasmus readilie assented, adding, that it had ye rare meritt of playing less on persons than things, and never on bodilie defects.
“Hum!—I wonder if they ever sayd as much in favour of me. I knowe, indeede, Erasmus calls me a forward girl! Alas! that may be taken in two senses.”
“Grievous work, overnighte, with ye churning. Nought wd persuade Gillian but that ye creame was bewitched by Gammer Gurney, who was dissatisfyde last Friday with her dole, and hobbled away mumping and cursing. At alle events ye butter wd not come; but mother was resolute not to have soe much good creame wasted; soe sent for Bess and me, Daisy and Mercy Giggs, and insisted on our churning in turn till ye butter came, if we sate up all nighte for’t. ’Twas a hard saying; and mighte have hampered her like as Jephtha his rash vow: howbeit, soe soone as she had left us, we turned it into a frolick, and sang Chevy Chase from end to end, to beguile time; ne’erthelesse, the butter wd not come; soe then we grew sober, and, at ye instance of sweete Mercy, chaunted ye 119th Psalme; and, by the time we had attayned to ‘Lucerna pedibus,’ I heard ye buttermilk separating and splashing in righte earnest. ’Twas neare midnighte, however; and Daisy had fallen asleep on ye dresser. Gillian will ne’er be convinced but that our Latin brake the spell.”
A few pages farther, we are let into the secret of the who, and the wherefore, of the aforesaid merry damsels, “Daisy and Bess, and Mercy Giggs, and I,” who are to be our delectable companions through many a mirthful, many a melancholy page.