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her walnuts, her apricots, and quinces—and is there not much spiritual Housewifery in treasuring up our mind's best fruits,—our heart's meditations in its most favoured moments?
This said simile is much in the fashion of the old Moralizers, such as I conceive honest Baxter to have been, such as Quarles and Wither were, with their curious, serio-comic, quaint Emblems. But they sometimes reach the heart, when a more elegant simile rests in the fancy.
Not low and mean, like these, but beautifully familiarized to our conceptions, and condescending to human thoughts and notions, areall
