died, my father left our home in New England, ever after seeking for some spot where he might settle, but finding none, till at length he determined to go back to the old country.”

“You can have had but little time for obtaining instruction then?” said Mary, “I thought boys were always sent to school.”

“I picked up what I could out of what my father calls the ‘big book of life,’” answered Wenlock. “He also gave me such instructions as time and opportunity would allow, though there are many more things I should like to learn. I have, however, read not a few books; I can handle a singlestick as well as many older men, can ride, row, and shoot with arquebuse or crossbow, and I can write letters on various subjects, as I will prove to you, Mistress Mary, if you will allow me, when I again begin my wanderings; for I doubt whether my father will long remain in this big city. He is constantly complaining that the times are out of joint; and although we have been in England but a few weeks, he threatens again speedily to leave it.”

“That were a pity,” said Mary. “I prefer the green fields, and the woods, and the gay flowers, and the songs of birds, to the narrow streets, the dingy houses, and the cries of London; but yet I opine that happiness comes from within, and that, if the heart is at rest, contentment may be found under all circumstances.”

“You are a philosopher,” said Wenlock.

“No,” answered Mary quietly, “I am a Quakeress, an you please: and our principles afford us that peace and contentment which they of the world know not of.”

“I must get you to teach me to be a Quaker, then,” said Wenlock. “I have been listening attentively to your father’s discourses to mine, and even he, who was so much opposed to such ideas, has greatly been attracted by them; and, to tell you the truth, Mistress Mead, I have made up my mind that they are the best that I have heard of. There may be better, but I know not of them.”

“Oh, no, no. There can be no better than such as are to be found in the Book of Life,” said Mary. “You must judge of our principles by that, and that alone. If they are not according to that, they are wrong; but if they are according to that, there can be none better.”

Wenlock, as he talked to the fair young Quakeress, felt himself every moment becoming more and more a convert to her opinions; and had not his father been present, he would then and there have undoubtedly 

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