last week I was more than ordinarily feeble-which was a thing common to me with others. The air was much distempered for two or three days, the effects of which you see in the vast increase of the sickness now the weather seems more favourable, but yet is very uncertain. And truly, if this parish may be the measure of others, we are likely to see a greater mortality; for here are twenty, I believe, dead since the last bill, in three days' time. How God will deal with us it is not in our power to know; but it will be well with those that love him, either here or in another world. I have had many thoughts of immortality, and should be at a great loss were it not for the Christian religion, which though it gives us no distinct explication of the future state, yet assures us of it, and perhaps intended no more but to make us certain that all that is true which the world did but conjecture at before. I am very willing to incline to that opinion, that the great intent of our Lord's coming was to assure us, as much as could be, of immortal life, which was all that he thought needful to be done; the discourses of pious men concerning that estate being true enough. And when I think thus, I can entertain myself very pleasantly with the thoughts of the happy company, and the excellent discourses wherein we shall spend our time in the other world. But still you will say that this is but opinion; and he hath not told us, that all these thoughts of ours concerning that world may be relied upon: and truly so it is; but it is the best we have to comfort ourselves withal. Yet this may be added withal, that the holy Scriptures justify these conceits of ours, when they tell us of "being with the Lord," and of "the spirits of just men made perfect." Perhaps we may live to understand these clearer: if not, "the will of the Lord be done"-to which I still find it most agreeable

S

to my temper to resign myself. And truly I find a great deal of peace in so doing, having nothing to trouble me now that I have concocted the grief which I had for my father's death; I say nothing, because though my man be some burden to me (which it will be too long to tell you how), yet it is so slight in compare with what others suffer, that I can easily endure it. This I learn from it, that the more we have, the more we have to lose, or to be a disturbance to us; and as we increase our families, so we draw clogs and cares upon us.

63. The same to the same.

Sept. 9, 1665.

MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,—I am exceeding glad to find that you not only live, but grow a little more lively by the recovery of your spirits: but if they run any other way than you would have them, I shall be sorry. Your unworthy friend, you see, is still in this world, by the great mercy of God to him. How long he shall continue, none knows; but pray desire, that if he do survive this great mortality, it may be to advance some excellent end; and to do more good to his friends, and all others than he has done. My mind, I thank God, is very well satisfied, and (I may say to you) not afraid of dying hitherto: I cannot tell what it will be when it comes nearer: but I hope in our Lord, to whom I have committed myself, that he will stand by me and refresh me. I can reflect on nothing so sadly as to be separate from my friends, and not so much as bid them farewell, if I die but when it is thoroughly weighed, it is not a matter so horrid as our fancy represents it. I hope I shall find it so, if I be cast into that condition:

but how it is, I cannot tell you, unless I could return out of the other world. I had a great pain the other night in one of my legs, which broke my sleep very much if it had been in another place, it would have been thought dangerous; but by a poultice or two it is now gone. I would not tell you of it in my last, because it was but then beginning, and you might imagine me worse than I was. I find myself

with the alteration of the weather to be a little dull to-day, but perhaps it may be imputed to my study for to-morrow. It was a lovely season yesterday, and we hoped for some sweet clear weather; but it pleases God, the wind is changed again, and brings abundance of rain with it. And, indeed, we have had no settled weather since I saw you, which hath made the sickness, I believe, rage more; for south winds are always observed to be bad in such times; and the wind stays not long out of that quarter: it decreases in some places, and grows very much in others. I hope there will not be so many die here as did last week; and yet we have twenty-one or twenty-two dead already.

I suppose you think I intend to stay here still, though I understand by your question you would not have me. But, my friend, what am I better than another? Somebody must be here; and is it fit that I should set a value upon myself, as my going away and leaving another will signify? For it will be in effect to say, that I am too good to be lost, but it is no matter if another be. Truly, I do not consider myself so considerable to the world: and though my friends set a great price upon me, yet that temptation hath not yet made me of their mind; and I know their love makes me pass for more with them than I am worth. When I mention that word love, I confess that it moves me much, and I have a great passion for them, and

wish I might live to embrace them once again: but I must not take any undue courses to satisfy this passion, which is but too strong in me. I must let reason prevail, and stay with my charge, which I take hitherto to be my duty, whatever come. I cannot tell what good we do to their souls, though I preach to those who are well, and write to those who are ill (I mean, print little prayers for them, which are yet too big to send you by the post): but I am sure while I stay here, I shall do good to their bodies, and perhaps save some from perishing; which I look upon as a considerable end of my continuing. My dear friend, do not take it ill that I cannot comply with your desires in this thing. You see what sways me; and I know you will yield to it, and say that it ought to be stronger than their love of you. If you can convince me that I may with a good conscience go, you may think that it will be acceptable; but I know not upon what grounds you will make it good. Try, if you have a mind

I saw last Tuesday about thirty people in the Strand, with white sticks in their hands, and the doctor of the pest-house walking in his gown before them. The first woman rid on a horse, and had a paper flag on the top of her stick, with "Laus Deo" written on it. They were going to the justices, being poor people sent thither, and recovered by him of the plague: he seemed to take no small content in his stately march before them. Now I must make an end, and only add my hearty love to all with you and your friends, praying for your preservation, and remaining

Yours most affectionately,

S. P.

64. The same to the same.

Sept. 21, 1665.

MY DEAR FRIEND,-I must tell you, for you will hear it from other hands, that the plague is again increased, as expected it would, according as you would understand by my last. Our only comfort is, that we are in the hands of God, and not in the hands of men; for his mercies are very great. I am very joyful to hear at last that you bend your thoughts to resign me up to God. I hope it will make your life more happy, whether I die or live. You do not trouble me by your instances to leave this place, because I think most of your love, which is conspicuous therein; and I should have reflected as much without these entreaties of yours, upon the desirableness of seeing my friends once more, who, I think I may truly say, have faster hold of me than any thing in this world. But if God will pull me from them, his will be done. I ought to esteem him my best friend, who doth not envy to me any other, and who will spare my life, unless it be better for me to die. To him I shall refer myself, which I call trusting in God (as you would have seen, if it had been fit, before this time; but I doubt you will be afraid to receive papers printed in London); but it is not to accomplish martyrdom, as you call it (that's too high a name), but to do a little service to my neighbours, who I think would not be so well if I was not here. I hope also that some or other will be assistant to me, if I be sick; for the truth is, you ask me a question, which puts me in mind of that I never deliberated about; and that is, concerning a nurse at such a time. I have thought of none (for I must deal sincerely with you); and only hope that some or other who wish well to me, will provide