ACCOUNT OF BOOKS. 
after me my mother had a daugh- 
ter that she nurst at her owne brest, 
and wasinfinitely fond of above all 
the rest, and I being of too serious 
a temper was not so pleasing tomy ¢ 
KREK KEK 
’ (Great care being taken to fol- 
low the orthography of the writer, 
the reader need be under no appre- 
hension as to the correctness of the 
print, though he should find the 
same word spelt differently ¢ven in 
the same line: as unperfect, im- 
perfect ; son, sonne, &c. The only 
deviation we have made from the 
MS. is in putting the U and V in 
their proper places; they being 
written promiscuously.] 
We shall add to this her affec- 
tionate and impressive address to 
her children, concerning their 
- father. 
6 Mrs, Hutchinson to her Children, 
* Concerning their Father.” 
<¢ TO MY CHILDREN.” 
«© They who dote on mortal! ex- 
eellencies, when by the inevitable 
fate of all things fraile, their adored 
idolls are taken from them, may 
lett loose the winds of passion to 
bring in a flood of sorrow; whose 
ebbing tides carry away the deare 
memory of what they have lost ; 
and when comfort is assay’d to such 
mourners, commonly all obiects 
are remoov’d out of their view, 
which may with their remembrance 
rénew their griefe; and in time 
these remedies succeed, when obli- 
vions curtaine is by degrees drawn 
over the dead face, and things lesse 
lovely are liked, while they are not 
view’d together with that which 
liti 
was most excellent: but I that am 
under a command not to gricve att 
the common rate of désolate woe. 
men, while I am studying which 
way to moderate my woe, and if it 
were possible to augment my love, 
can for the present find ont none 
more instto your deare father nor 
cousolatory to myselfe then the pre. 
servation of his memory, which f 
need not guild with such flattring 
conimendations as the hired preach- 
ers doe equally give to the truly and 
titularly honourable ; a naked un- 
drest narrative, speaking the simple 
truth of him, will deck him with 
more substantiall glorie, then all the 
panegyricks the best pens could 
ever consecrate to the vertues of 
the best men. 
‘¢ Indeed that resplendant body 
of light, which the beginning and 
ending of his life made up, to disco- 
ver the deformities of this wicked 
age, and to instruct the erring chil- 
dren of this generation, will through 
my apprehension and expression 
shine as under a very thick clowd, 
which will obscure much of their 
lustre ; but there is need of this me- 
dium to this world’s weake eies, 
which I feare hath but few people 
in it so yertuous as can believe, 
because they find themselves soshort, 
any other could make so large a 
progresse in the race of piety, ho- 
nor, and vertue: but | am allmost 
stopt before I sett forth to trace his 
steps ; finding the number of them 
by which he still outwent himselfe 
more then my unperfect arithmetick. 
can count, and the exact figure of 
them such as my unskillfull pen can 
not describe. [ feare to iniure that 
memory which I would honor, and 
t' This sentence appears to relate to some amour in which Mrs. H. was disap 
pointed, 
4 
Here the story of herself abruptly ends, 
B 4 to 
