_Aug. 18._
THE dear babe is gone—he died on the morning of the thirteenth, and is
buried in the churchyard of the Priory Church, where both families have
a right. My Lady tries to keep up, but grows more feeble every day. My
Lord is with her every moment, Richard taking all cares off his hands.
"I wolde not brethren have you ignoraunt as concernynge them which
are fallen aslepe, that ye sorowe not as wother do which have no hope.
For yf we beleve that Jesus died, and rose agapne: even so them also
which slepe by Jesus, will God brynge agapne with him . . . Therfore
comfort youre selves one another with these wordes."
Tessalonyans chap iv
[These words gave me great comfort in my sorrow, so I have copied them
here.]
[Illustration]