I thought he spoke with some bitterness, which, indeed, was not without the excuse, that the manner of our gay young gentleman towards him savored much of pride and contemptuousness.
My beloved cousin, who hath a good heart, and who, I must think, apart from the wealth and family of Sir Thomas, rather inclineth to her old friend and neighbor, spake cheerily and kindly to him, and besought me privately to do somewhat to help her remove his vexation.

So we did discourse of many things very pleasantly.

Mr.Richardson, on hearing Rebecca say that the Indians did take the melancholy noises of the pinetrees in the winds to be the voices of the Spirits of the woods, said that they always called to his mind the sounds in the mulberry- trees which the Prophet spake of.

Hereupon Rebecca, who hath her memory well provided with divers readings, both of the poets and other writers, did cite very opportunely some ingenious lines, touching what the heathens do relate of the Sacred Tree of Dodona, the rustling of whose leaves the negro priestesses did hold to be the language of the gods.
And a late writer, she said, had something in one of his pieces, which might well be spoken of the aged and dead tree-trunk, upon which we were sitting.

And when we did all desire to know their import, she repeated them thus:-- "Sure thou didst flourish once, and many springs, Many bright mornings, much dew, many showers, Passed o'er thy head; many light hearts and wings, Which now are dead, lodged in thy living towers." "And still a new succession sings and flies, Fresh groves grow up, and their green branches shoot Towards the old and still enduring skies, While the low violet thriveth at their root." These lines, she said, were written by one Vaughn, a Brecknockshire Welsh Doctor of Medicine, who had printed a little book not many years ago.