last. A man ‘able with his pen and his sword’; a distinguished man. Once B.A. of Trinity College, Oxford, and Student of the Middle Temple; then a gentleman trooper in my Lord General Essex’s Life-guard; now Colonel of Horse, soon Member of Parliament; rapidly rising. A Nottinghamshire man; has known the Lieutenant-General ever since the Eastern-Association times. Cornbury House, not now conspicuous on the maps, is discoverable in Oxfordshire, disguised as Blandford Lodge,—not too far from the Devizes, at which latter Town Fairfax and Ireton have just been, disbanding Massey’s Brigade. The following Letter will require no commentary.
FOR MY BELOVED DAUGHTER BRIDGET IRETON, AT CORNBURY, GENERAL’S QUARTERS: THESE
Dear Daughter,—I write not to thy Husband; partly to avoid trouble, for one line of mine begets many of his, which I doubt makes him sit up too late; partly because I am myself indisposed[1] at this time, having some other considerations.
Your Friends at Ely are well: your Sister Claypole is, I trust in mercy, exercised with some perplexed thoughts. She sees her own vanity and carnal mind; bewailing it: she seeks after (as I hope also) what will satisfy. And thus to be a seeker is to be of the best sect next to a finder; and such an one shall every faithful humble seeker be at the end. Happy seeker, happy finder! Who ever tasted that the Lord is gracious, without some sense of self, vanity and badness? Who ever tasted that graciousness of His, and could go less[2] in desire,—less than pressing after full enjoyment? Dear Heart, press on; let not Husband, let not anything cool thy affections after Christ. I hope he[3] will be an occasion to inflame them.
