Diary of Anna Green Winslow - A Boston School Girl of 1771
by Anna Green Winslow
1  2     Next Part
Home - Random Browse

Transcriber's Note:

Spelling, punctuation and capitalization are as in the original. This includes the writer's various spellings of her own name.

Ordinals such as "1st", "2d", "4th" were consistently written in superscript. They are shown here as unmarked text. Other superscript abbreviations are shown with caret as M^rs, Hon^d.

The printed book included a facsimile image of a typical diary page. A transcription of this passage appears immediately before the diary proper.


A Boston School Girl of 1771

Edited by


[Publisher's Device: Tout bien ou rien]

Boston and New York Houghton, Mifflin and Company The Riverside Press, Cambridge 1895

Copyright, 1894, By Alice Morse Earle. All rights reserved.

Third Edition.

The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U.S.A. Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co.

This Book

Is Dedicated To The Kinsfolk Of



In the year 1770, a bright little girl ten years of age, Anna Green Winslow, was sent from her far away home in Nova Scotia to Boston, the birthplace of her parents, to be "finished" at Boston schools by Boston teachers. She wrote, with evident eagerness and loving care, for the edification of her parents and her own practice in penmanship, this interesting and quaint diary, which forms a most sprightly record, not only of the life of a young girl at that time, but of the prim and narrow round of daily occurrences in provincial Boston. It thus assumes a positive value as an historical picture of the domestic life of that day; a value of which the little girl who wrote it, or her kinsfolk who affectionately preserved it to our own day, never could have dreamed. To many New England families it is specially interesting as a complete rendering, a perfect presentment, of the childish life of their great grandmothers, her companions.

It is an even chance which ruling thought in the clever little writer, a love of religion or a love of dress, shows most plainly its influence on this diary. On the whole, I think that youthful vanity, albeit of a very natural and innocent sort, is more pervasive of the pages. And it is fortunate that this is the case; for, from the frankly frivolous though far from self-conscious entries we gain a very exact notion, a very valuable picture, of the dress of a young girl at that day. We know all the details of her toilet, from the "pompedore" shoes and the shifts (which she had never worn till she lived in Boston), to the absurd and top-heavy head-decoration of "black feathers, my past comb & all my past garnet marquasett and jet pins, together with my silver plume." If this fantastic assemblage of ornament were set upon the "Heddus roll," so graphically described, it is easy to understand the denunciations of the time upon women's headgear. In no contemporary record or account, no matter who the writer, can be found such a vivacious and witty description of the modish hairdressing of that day as in the pages of this diary.

But there are many entries in the journal of this vain little Puritan devotee to show an almost equal attention to religion; records of sermons which she had heard, and of religious conversations in which she had taken a self-possessed part; and her frequent use of Biblical expressions and comparisons shows that she also remembered fully what she read. Her ambitious theological sermon-notes were evidently somewhat curtailed by the sensible advice of the aunt with whom she resided, who thereby checked also the consequent injudicious praise of her pastor, the Old South minister. For Anna and her kinsfolk were of the congregation of the Old South church; and this diary is in effect a record of the life of Old South church attendants. Many were what Anna terms "sisters of the Old South," and nine tenths of the names of her companions and friends may be found on the baptismal and membership records of that church.

Anna was an industrious little wight, active in all housewifely labors and domestic accomplishments, and attentive to her lessons. She could make "pyes," and fine network; she could knit lace, and spin linen thread and woolen yarn; she could make purses, and embroider pocket-books, and weave watch strings, and piece patchwork. She learned "dansing, or danceing I should say," from one Master Turner; she attended a sewing school, to become a neat and deft little sempstress, and above all, she attended a writing school to learn that most indispensable and most appreciated of eighteenth century accomplishments—fine writing. Her handwriting, of which a fac-simile is here shown, was far better than that of most girls of twelve to-day; with truth and justice could Anna say, "Aunt says I can write pretily." Her orthography was quite equal to that of grown persons of her time, and her English as good as that of Mercy Warren, her older contemporary writer.

And let me speak also of the condition of her diary. It covers seventy-two pages of paper about eight inches long by six and a half inches wide. The writing is uniform in size, every letter is perfectly formed; it is as legible as print, and in the entire diary but three blots can be seen, and these are very small. A few pages were ruled by the writer, the others are unruled. The old paper, though heavy and good, is yellow with age, and the water marks C.F.R. and the crown stand out distinctly. The sheets are sewed in a little book, on which a marbled paper cover has been placed, probably by a later hand than Anna's. Altogether it is a remarkably creditable production for a girl of twelve.

It is well also to compare her constant diligence and industry displayed to us through her records of a day's work—and at another time, of a week's work—with that of any girl of her age in a corresponding station of life nowadays. We learn that physical pain or disability were no excuse for slothfulness; Anna was not always well—had heavy colds, and was feverish; but well or ill was always employed. Even with painful local afflictions such as a "whitloe," she still was industrious, "improving it to perfect myself in learning to spin flax." She read much—the Bible constantly—and also found amusement in reading "a variety of composures."

She was a friendly little soul, eager to be loved; resenting deeply that her Aunt Storer let "either one of her chaises, her chariot or babyhutt," pass the door every day, without sending for her; going cheerfully tea-drinking from house to house of her friends; delighting even in the catechising and the sober Thursday Lecture. She had few amusements and holidays compared with the manifold pleasures that children have nowadays, though she had one holiday which the Revolution struck from our calendar—the King's Coronation Day. She saw the Artillery Company drill, and she visited brides and babies and old folks, and attended some funerals. When she was twelve years old she "came out"—became a "miss in her teens"—and went to a succession of prim little routs or parties, which she called "constitutions." To these decorous assemblies girls only were invited,—no rough Boston boys. She has left to us more than one clear, perfect picture of these formal little routs in the great low-raftered chamber, softly alight with candles on mantel-tree and in sconces; with Lucinda, the black maid, "shrilly piping;" and rows of demure little girls of Boston Brahmin blood, in high rolls and feathers, discreetly partaking of hot and cold punch, and soberly walking and curtsying through the minuet; fantastic in costume, but proper and seemly in demeanor, models of correct deportment as were their elegant mammas.

But Anna was not solemn; she was always happy, and often merry—full of life and wit. She jested about getting a "fresh seasoning with Globe salt," and wrote some labored jokes and some unconscious ones home to her mother. She was subject to "egregious fits of laughterre," and fully proved the statement, "Aunt says I am a whimsical child." She was not beautiful. Her miniature is now owned by Miss Elizabeth C. Trott of Niagara Falls, the great grand-daughter of General John Winslow, and a copy is shown in the frontispiece. It displays a gentle, winning little face, delicate in outline, as is also the figure, and showing some hint also of delicacy of constitution. It may be imagination to think that it is plainly the face of one who could never live to be old—a face typical of youth.

Let us glance at the stock from whence sprung this tender and engaging little blossom. When the weary Pilgrims landed at Cape Cod before they made their memorable landing at Plymouth, a sprightly young girl jumped on shore, and was the first English woman to set foot on the soil of New England. Her name was Mary Chilton. She married John Winslow, the brother of Governor Edward Winslow. Anna Green Winslow was Mary Chilton's direct descendant in the sixth generation.

Anna's grandfather, John Winslow the fourth, was born in Boston. His son Joshua wrote thus in the Winslow Family Bible: "Jno Winslow my Honor'd Father was born ye 31 Dec. at 6 o'c. in the morning on the Lords Day, 1693, and was baptized by Mr. Willard the next day & dyed att sea Octo. 13, 1731 aged 38 years." A curious attitude was assumed by certain Puritan ministers, of reluctance and even decided objection and refusal to baptize children who were unlucky enough to be born on the Lord's Day; but Samuel Willard, the pastor of the "South Church" evidently did not concur in that extraordinary notion, for on the day following "Jno's" birth—on New Year's Day—he was baptized. He was married on September 21, 1721, to Sarah Pierce, and in their ten years of married life they had three children.

Joshua Winslow, Anna's father, was the second child. He was born January 23, 1727, and was baptized at the Old South. He was "published" with his cousin Anna Green on December 7, 1758, and married to her four weeks later, January 3, 1759. An old piece of embroidered tapestry herein shown gives a good portrayal of a Boston wedding-party at that date; the costumes, coach, and cut of the horses' mane and tail are very curious and interesting to note. Mrs. Winslow's mother was Anna Pierce (sister of Sarah), and her father was Joseph Green, the fourth generation from Percival Green, whose descendants have been enumerated by Dr. Samuel Abbott Green, the president of the Massachusetts Historical Society, in his book entitled "Account of Percival and Ellen Green and some of their descendants."

Mrs. Joshua Winslow was the oldest of twelve Green children, hence the vast array of uncles and aunts and cousins in little Anna's diary.

Joseph Green, Anna's maternal grandfather, was born December 12, 1703, and was baptised on the same day. He died July 11, 1765. He was a wealthy man for his time, being able to pay Governor Belcher L3,600 for a tract of land on Hanover Street. His firm name was Green & Walker. A fine portrait of him by Copley still exists.

Thus Anna came of good stock in all lines of descent. The Pierces were of the New Hampshire provincial gentry, to which the Wentworths and Langdons also belonged.

Before Joshua Winslow was married, when he was but eighteen years of age, he began his soldierly career. He was a Lieutenant in Captain Light's company in the regiment of Colonel Moore at the taking of Louisburg in 1745. He was then appointed Commissary-General of the British forces in Nova Scotia, and an account-book of his daily movements there still exists. Upon his return to New England he went to live at Marshfield, Massachusetts, in the house afterwards occupied by Daniel Webster. But troublous times were now approaching for the faithful servants of the King. Strange notions of liberty filled the heads of many Massachusetts men and women; and soon the Revolution became more than a dream. Joshua Winslow in that crisis, with many of his Marshfield friends and neighbors, sided with his King.

He was in Marshfield certainly in June, 1775, for I have a letter before me written to him there by Mrs. Deming at that date. One clause of this letter is so amusing that I cannot resist quoting it. We must remember that it was written in Connecticut, whence Mrs. Deming had fled in fright and dismay at the siege of Boston; and that she had lost her home and all her possessions. She writes in answer to her brother's urgent invitation to return to Marshfield.

"We have no household stuff. Neither could I live in the terror of constant alarms and the din of war. Besides I know not how to look you in the face, unless I could restore to you your family Expositer, which together with my Henry on the Bible & Harveys Meditations which are your daughter's (the gift of her grandmother) I pack'd in a Trunk that exactly held them, some days before I made my escape, and did my utmost to git to you, but which I am told are still in Boston. It is not, nor ever will be in my power to make you Satisfaction for this Error—I should not have coveted to keep 'em so long—I am heartily sorry now that I had more than one book at a time; in that case I might have thot to have bro't it away with me, tho' I forgot my own Bible & almost every other necessary. But who can tell whether you may not git your Valuable Books. I should feel comparatively easy if you had these your Valuable property."

Her painful solicitude over the loss of a borrowed book is indeed refreshing, as well as her surprising covetousness of the Family Expositor and Harvey's Meditations. And I wish to add to the posthumous rehabilitation of the damaged credit of this conscientious aunt, that Anna's book—Harvey's Meditations—was recovered and restored to the owner, and was lost at sea in 1840 by another Winslow.

Joshua Winslow, when exiled, went to England, and thence to Quebec, where he retained throughout his life his office as Royal Paymaster. He was separated many years from his wife and daughter, and doubtless Anna died while her father was far from her; for in a letter dated Quebec, December 26, 1783, and written to his wife, he says,

"The Visiting Season is come on, a great practice here about Christmas and the New Year; on the return of which I congratulate my Dearest Anna and Friends with you, it being the fifth and I hope the last I shall be obliged to see the return of in a Separation from each other while we may continue upon the same Globe."

She shortly after joined him in Quebec. His letters show careful preparations for her comfort on the voyage. They then were childless; Anna's brothers, George Scott and John Henry, died in early youth. It is interesting to note that Joshua Winslow was the first of the Winslows to give his children more than one baptismal name.

Joshua Winslow was a man of much dignity and of handsome person, if we can trust the Copley portrait and miniature of him which still exist. The portrait is owned by Mr. James F. Trott of Niagara Falls, New York, the miniature by Mrs. J. F. Lindsey of Yorkville, South Carolina, both grandchildren of General John Winslow. His letters display much intelligence. His spelling is unusually correct; his penmanship elegant—as was that of all the Winslows; his forms of expression scholarly and careful. He sometimes could joke a little, as when he began his letters to his wife Anna thus—2. N. A.—though it is possible that the "Obstructions to a free Correspondence, and the Circumspection we are obliged to practice in our Converse with each other" arising from his exiled condition, may have made him thus use a rebus in the address of his letter.

He died in Quebec in 1801. His wife returned to New England and died in Medford in 1810. Her funeral was at General John Winslow's house on Purchase Street, Fort Hill, Boston; she was buried in the Winslow tomb in King's Chapel burial ground.

We know little of the last years of Anna Green Winslow's life. A journal written by her mother in 1773 during their life in Marshfield is now owned by Miss Sarah Thomas of Marshfield, Mass. It is filled chiefly with pious sermon notes and religious thoughts, and sad and anxious reflections over absent loved ones, one of whom (in the sentimental fashion of the times) she calls "my Myron"—her husband.

Through this journal we see "Nanny Green's" simple and monotonous daily life; her little tea-drinkings; her spinning and reeling and knitting; her frequent catechisings, her country walks. We find her mother's testimony to the "appearance of reason that is in my children and for the readiness with which they seem to learn what is taught them." And though she repeatedly thanks God for living in a warm house, she notes that "my bason of water froze on the hearth with as good a fire as we could make in the chimney." This rigor of climate and discomfort of residence, and Anna's evident delicacy shown through the records of her fainting, account for her failing health. The last definite glimpse which we have of our gentle little Nanny is in the shape of a letter written to her by "Aunt Deming." It is dated Boston, April 21, 1779, and is so characteristic of the day and so amusing also that I quote it in full.

Dear Neice,

I receivd your favor of 6th instant by nephew Jack, who with the Col. his trav'ling companion, perform'd an easy journey from you to us, and arriv'd before sunset. I thank you for the beads, the wire, and the beugles, I fancy I shall never execute the plan of the head dress to which you allude—if I should, some of your largest corn stalks, dril'd of the pith and painted might be more proportionable. I rejoice that your cloths came off so much better than my fears—a troublesome journey, I expected you would have; and very much did I fear for your bones. I was always unhappy in anticipating trouble—it is my constitution, I believe—and when matters have been better than my fears—I have never been so dutifully thankful as my bountiful Benefactor had a right to expect. This, also, I believe, is the constitution of all my fellow race.

Mr. Deming had a Letter from your Papa yesterday; he mention'd your Mama & you as indispos'd & Flavia as sick in bed. I'm at too great a distance to render you the least service, and were I near, too much out of health to—some part of the time—even speak to you. I am seiz'd with exceeding weakness at the very seat of life, and to a greater degree than I ever before knew. Could I ride, it might help me, but that is an exercise my income will not permit. I walk out whenever I can. The day will surely come, when I must quit this frail tabernacle, and it may be soon—I certainly know, I am not of importance eno' in this world, for any one to wish my stay—rather am I, and so I consider myself as a cumberground. However I shall abide my appointed time & I desire to be found waiting for my change.

Our family are well—had I time and spirits I could acquaint you of an expedition two sisters made to Dorchester, a walk begun at sunrise last thursday morning—dress'd in their dammasks, padusoy, gauze, ribbins, flapets, flowers, new white hats, white shades, and black leather shoes, (Pudingtons make) and finished journey, & garments, orniments, and all quite finish'd on Saturday, before noon, (mud over shoes) never did I behold such destruction in so short a space—bottom of padusoy coat fring'd quite round, besides places worn entire to floss, & besides frays, dammask, from shoulders to bottom, not lightly soil'd, but as if every part had rub'd tables and chairs that had long been us'd to wax mingl'd with grease. I could have cry'd, for I really pitied 'em—nothing left fit to be seen—They had leave to go, but it never entered any ones tho'ts but their own to be dressd in all (even to loading) of their best—their all, as you know. What signifies it to worry ones selves about beings that are, and will be, just so? I can, and do pity and advise, but I shall git no credit by such like. The eldest talks much of learning dancing, musick (the spinet & guitar), embroidry, dresden, the French tongue &c &c. The younger with an air of her own, advis'd the elder when she first mention'd French, to learn first to read English, and was answered "law, so I can well eno' a'ready." You've heard her do what she calls reading, I believe. Poor creature! Well! we have a time of it!

If any one at Marshfield speaks of me remember me to them. Nobody knows I'm writing, each being gone their different ways, & all from home except the little one who is above stairs. Farewell my dear, I've wrote eno' I find for this siting.

Yr affect

Sarah Deming.

It does not need great acuteness to read between the lines of this letter an affectionate desire to amuse a delicate girl whom the writer loved. The tradition in the Winslow family is that Anna Green Winslow died of consumption at Marshfield in the fall of 1779. There is no town or church record of her death, no known grave or headstone to mark her last resting-place. And to us she is not dead, but lives and speaks—always a loving, endearing little child; not so passionate and gifted and rare a creature as that star among children—Marjorie Fleming—but a natural and homely little flower of New England life; fated never to grow old or feeble or dull or sad, but to live forever and laugh in the glamour of eternal happy youth through the few pages of her time-stained diary.

Alice Morse Earle.

Brooklyn Heights, September, 1894.


PAGE ANNA GREEN WINSLOW. From miniature now owned by Miss Elizabeth C. Trott, Niagara Falls, N.Y. Frontispiece.


WEDDING PARTY IN BOSTON IN 1756. From tapestry now owned by American Antiquarian Society 20

GENERAL JOSHUA WINSLOW. From miniature painted by Copley, 1755, and now owned by Mrs. John F. Lindsey, Yorkville, S.C. 34

EBENEZER STORER. From portrait painted by Copley, now owned by Mrs. Lewis C. Popham, Scarsdale, N.Y. 45

HANNAH GREEN STORER. From portrait painted by Copley, now owned by Mrs. Lewis C. Popham, Scarsdale, N.Y. 65

CUT-PAPER PICTURE. Cut by Mrs. Sarah Winslow Deming, now owned by James F. Trott, Esq., Niagara Falls, N.Y. 74

[Transcriber's Note: In this transcription of Anna Green Winslow's handwriting, line breaks follow the original. The postscript ("N.B.") is in smaller writing, almost surrounding the signature.]


I hope aunt wont let me wear the black hatt with the red Dominie—for the people will ask me what I have got to sell as I go along street if I do. or, how the folk at Newgui nie do? Dear mamma, you dont know the fation here—I beg to look like other folk. You dont kno what a stir would be made in Sudbury Street were I to make my appearance there in my red Domi nie & black Hatt. But the old cloak & bonnett together will make me a decent Bonnet for common ocation (I like that) aunt says, its a pitty some of the ribbin you sent wont do for the Bonnet—I must now close up this Journal. With Duty, Love & Compli ments as due, perticularly to my Dear little brother, (I long to see him) & M.^rs Law, I will write to her soon I am, Hon.^d Papa & mama, Y.^r ever Dutiful Daughter Anna Green Winslow. N.B. my aunt Deming dont approve of my English. & has not the fear that you will think her concernd in the Diction



. . . . .

Lady, by which means I had a bit of the wedding cake. I guess I shall have but little time for journalising till after thanksgiving. My aunt Deming[1] says I shall make one pye myself at least. I hope somebody beside myself will like to eat a bit of my Boston pye thou' my papa and you did not (I remember) chuse to partake of my Cumberland[2] performance. I think I have been writing my own Praises this morning. Poor Job was forced to praise himself when no man would do him that justice. I am not as he was. I have made two shirts for unkle since I finish'd mamma's shifts.

Nov^r 18th, 1771.—Mr. Beacons[3] text yesterday was Psalm cxlix. 4. For the Lord taketh pleasure in his people; he will beautify the meek with salvation. His Doctrine was something like this, viz: That the Salvation of Gods people mainly consists in Holiness. The name Jesus signifies a Savior. Jesus saves his people from their Sins. He renews them in the spirit of their minds—writes his Law in their hearts. Mr. Beacon ask'd a question. What is beauty—or, wherein does true beauty consist? He answer'd, in holiness—and said a great deal about it that I can't remember, & as aunt says she hant leisure now to help me any further—so I may just tell you a little that I remember without her assistance, and that I repeated to her yesterday at Tea—He said he would lastly address himself to the young people: My dear young friends, you are pleased with beauty, & like to be tho't beautifull—but let me tell ye, you'l never be truly beautifull till you are like the King's daughter, all glorious within, all the orniments you can put on while your souls are unholy make you the more like white sepulchres garnish'd without, but full of deformyty within. You think me very unpolite no doubt to address you in this manner, but I must go a little further and tell you, how cource soever it may sound to your delicacy, that while you are without holiness, your beauty is deformity—you are all over black & defil'd, ugly and loathsome to all holy beings, the wrath of th' great God lie's upon you, & if you die in this condition, you will be turn'd into hell, with ugly devils, to eternity.

Nov. 27th.—We are very glad to see Mr. Gannett, because of him "we hear of your affairs & how you do"—as the apostle Paul once wrote. My unkle & aunt however, say they are sorry he is to be absent, so long as this whole winter, I think. I long now to have you come up—I want to see papa, mama, & brother, all most, for I cannot make any distinction which most—I should like to see Harry too. Mr. Gannett tells me he keeps a journal—I do want to see that—especially as Mr. Gannett has given me some specimens, as I may say of his "I and Aunt &c." I am glad Miss Jane is with you, I will write to her soon—Last monday I went with my aunt to visit Mrs. Beacon. I was exceedingly pleased with the visit, & so I ought to be, my aunt says, for there was much notice taken of me, particylarly by Mr. Beacon. I think I like him better every time I see him. I suppose he takes the kinder notice of me, because last thursday evening he was here, & when I was out of the room, aunt told him that I minded his preaching & could repeat what he said—I might have told you that notwithstanding the stir about the Proclamatien, we had an agreable Thanksgiven. Mr. Hunt's[4] text was Psa. xcvii. 1. The LORD reigneth,—let the earth rejoice. Mr. Beacon's text P M Psa. xxiv. 1. The earth is the LORD's & the fulness thereof. My unkle & aunt Winslow[5] of Boston, their son & daughter, Master Daniel Mason (Aunt Winslows nephew from Newport, Rhode Island) & Miss Soley[6] spent the evening with us. We young folk had a room with a fire in it to ourselves. Mr Beacon gave us his company for one hour. I spent Fryday with my friends in Sudbury Street. I saw Mrs. Whitwell[7] very well yesterday, she was very glad of your Letter.

Nov. 28th.—I have your favor Hon^d Mamma, by Mr. Gannett, & heartily thank you for the broad cloath, bags, ribbin & hat. The cloath & bags are both at work upon, & my aunt has bought a beautifull ermin trimming for my cloak. AC stands for Abigail Church. PF for Polly Frazior. I have presented one piece of ribbin to my aunt as you directed. She gives her love to you, & thanks you for it. I intend to send Nancy Mackky a pair of lace mittens, & the fag end of Harry's watch string. I hope Carolus (as papa us'd to call him) will think his daughter very smart with them. I am glad Hon^d madam, that you think my writing is better than it us'd to be—you see it is mended just here. I dont know what you mean by terrible margins vaze. I will endeavor to make my letters even for the future. Has Mary brought me any Lozong Mamma? I want to know whether I may give my old black quilt to Mrs Kuhn, for aunt sais, it is never worth while to take the pains to mend it again. Papa has wrote me a longer letter this time than you have Mad^m.

November the 29th.—My aunt Deming gives her love to you and says it is this morning 12 years since she had the pleasure of congratulating papa and you on the birth of your scribling daughter. She hopes if I live 12 years longer that I shall write and do everything better than can be expected in the past 12. I should be obliged to you, you will dismiss me for company.

30th Nov.—My company yesterday were

Miss Polly Deming,[8] Miss Polly Glover,[9] Miss Peggy Draper, Miss Bessy Winslow,[10] Miss Nancy Glover,[11] Miss Sally Winslow[12] Miss Polly Atwood, Miss Han^h Soley.

Miss Attwood as well as Miss Winslow are of this family. And Miss N. Glover did me honor by her presence, for she is older than cousin Sally and of her acquaintance. We made four couple at country dansing; danceing I mean. In the evening young Mr. Waters[13] hearing of my assembly, put his flute in his pocket and played several minuets and other tunes, to which we danced mighty cleverly. But Lucinda[14] was our principal piper. Miss Church and Miss Chaloner would have been here if sickness,—and the Miss Sheafs,[15] if the death of their father had not prevented. The black Hatt I gratefully receive as your present, but if Captain Jarvise had arrived here with it about the time he sail'd from this place for Cumberland it would have been of more service to me, for I have been oblig'd to borrow. I wore Miss Griswold's[16] Bonnet on my journey to Portsmouth, & my cousin Sallys Hatt ever since I came home, & now I am to leave off my black ribbins tomorrow, & am to put on my red cloak & black hatt—I hope aunt wont let me wear the black hatt with the red Dominie—for the people will ask me what I have got to sell as I go along street if I do, or, how the folk at New guinie do? Dear mamma, you dont know the fation here—I beg to look like other folk. You dont know what a stir would be made in sudbury street, were I to make my appearance there in my red Dominie & black Hatt. But the old cloak & bonnett together will make me a decent bonnett for common ocation (I like that) aunt says, its a pitty some of the ribbins you sent wont do for the Bonnet.—I must now close up this Journal. With Duty, Love, & Compliments as due, perticularly to my Dear little brother (I long to see him) & Mrs. Law, I will write to her soon.

I am Hon^d Papa & mama, Yr ever Dutiful Daughter ANNE GREEN WINSLOW.

N.B. My aunt Deming dont approve of my English & has not the fear that you will think her concernd in the Diction.

Dec^br. 6th.—Yesterday I was prevented dining at unkle Joshua's[17] by a snow storm which lasted till 12 o'clock today, I spent some part of yesterday afternoon and evening at Mr. Glovers. When I came home, the snow being so deep I was bro't home in arms. My aunt got Mr. Soley's Charlstown to fetch me. The snow is up to the peoples wast in some places in the street.

Dec 14th.—The weather and walking have been very winter like since the above hotch-potch, pothooks & trammels. I went to Mrs. Whitwell's last wednessday—you taught me to spell the 4 day of the week, but my aunt says that it should be spelt wednesday. My aunt also says, that till I come out of an egregious fit of laughterre that is apt to sieze me & the violence of which I am at this present under, neither English sense, nor anything rational may be expected of me. I ment to say, that, I went to Mrs. Whitwell's to see Mad^m Storers[18] funeral, the walking was very bad except on the sides of the street which was the reason I did not make a part of the procession. I should have dined with Mrs. Whitwell on thursday if a grand storm had not prevented, As she invited me. I saw Miss Caty Vans[19] at lecture last evening. I had a visit this morning from Mrs Dixon of Horton & Miss Polly Huston. Mrs Dixon is dissipointed at not finding her sister here.

Dec^r 24th.—Elder Whitwell told my aunt, that this winter began as did the Winter of 1740. How that was I dont remember but this I know, that to-day is by far the coldest we have had since I have been in New England. (N.B. All run that are abroad.) Last sabbath being rainy I went to & from meeting in Mr. Soley's chaise. I dined at unkle Winslow's, the walking being so bad I rode there & back to meeting. Every drop that fell froze, so that from yesterday morning to this time the appearance has been similar to the discription I sent you last winter. The walking is so slippery & the air so cold, that aunt chuses to have me for her scoller these two days. And as tomorrow will be a holiday, so the pope and his associates have ordained,[20] my aunt thinks not to trouble Mrs Smith with me this week. I began a shift at home yesterday for myself, it is pretty forward. Last Saturday was seven-night my aunt Suky[21] was delivered of a pretty little son, who was baptiz'd by Dr. Cooper[22] the next day by the name of Charles. I knew nothing of it till noonday, when I went there a visiting. Last Thursday I din'd & spent the afternoon at unkle Joshua's I should have gone to lecture with my aunt & heard our Mr Hunt preach, but she would not wait till I came from writing school. Miss Atwood, the last of our boarders, went off the same day. Miss Griswold & Miss Meriam, having departed some time agone, I forget whether I mention'd the recept of Nancy's present. I am oblig'd to her for it. The Dolphin is still whole. And like to remain so.

Dec^r 27th.—This day, the extremity of the cold is somewhat abated. I keept Christmas at home this year, & did a very good day's work, aunt says so. How notable I have been this week I shall tell you by & by. I spent the most part of Tuesday evening with my favorite, Miss Soley, & as she is confined by a cold & the weather still so severe that I cannot git farther, I am to visit her again before I sleep, & consult with her (or rather she with me) upon a perticular matter, which you shall know in its place. How strangely industrious I have been this week, I will inform you with my own hand—at present, I am so dilligent, that I am oblig'd to use the hand & pen of my old friend, who being near by is better than a brother far off. I dont forgit dear little John Henry so pray mamma, dont mistake me.

Dec^r 28th.—Last evening a little after 5 o'clock I finished my shift. I spent the evening at Mr. Soley's. I began my shift at 12 o'clock last monday, have read my bible every day this week & wrote every day save one.

Dec^r 30th.—I return'd to my sewing school after a weeks absence, I have also paid my compliments to Master Holbrook.[23] Yesterday between meetings my aunt was call'd to Mrs. Water's[13] & about 8 in the evening Dr. Lloyd[24] brought little master to town (N.B. As a memorandum for myself. My aunt stuck a white sattan pincushin[25] for Mrs Waters.[13] On one side, is a planthorn with flowers, on the reverse, just under the border are, on one side stuck these words, Josiah Waters, then follows on the end, Dec^r 1771, on the next side & end are the words, Welcome little Stranger.) Unkle has just come in & bro't one from me. I mean, unkle is just come in with a letter from Papa in his hand (& none for me) by way of Newbury. I am glad to hear that all was well the 26 Nov^r ult. I am told my Papa has not mention'd me in this Letter. Out of sight, out of mind. My aunt gives her love to papa, & says that she will make the necessary enquieries for my brother and send you via. Halifax what directions and wormseed she can collect.

1st Jan^y 1772.—I wish my Papa, Mama, brother John Henry, & cousin Avery & all the rest of my acquaintance at Cumberland, Fortlaurence, Barronsfield, Greenland, Amherst &c. a Happy New Year, I have bestow'd no new year's gift,[26] as yet. But have received one very handsome one, viz. the History of Joseph Andrews abreviated. In nice Guilt and flowers covers. This afternoon being a holiday I am going to pay my compliments in Sudbury Street.

Jan^y 4th 1772—I was dress'd in my yellow coat, my black bib & apron, my pompedore[27] shoes, the cap my aunt Storer[28] sometime since presented me with (blue ribbins on it) & a very handsome loket in the shape of a hart she gave me—the past pin my Hon^d Papa presented me with in my cap, My new cloak & bonnet on, my pompedore gloves, &c, &c. And I would tell you, that for the first time, they all lik'd my dress very much. My cloak & bonnett are really very handsome, & so they had need be. For they cost an amasing sight of money, not quite L45[29] tho' Aunt Suky said, that she suppos'd Aunt Deming would be frighted out of her Wits at the money it cost. I have got one covering, by the cost, that is genteel, & I like it much myself. On thursday I attended my aunt to Lecture & heard Dr Chauncey[30] preach a third sermon from Acts ii. 42. They continued stedfastly—in breaking of bread. I din'd & spent the afternoon at Mr. Whitwell's. Miss Caty Vans was one of our company. Dr. Pemberton[31] & Dr Cooper had on gowns, In the form of the Episcopal cassock we hear, the Doct^s design to distinguish themselves from the inferior clergy by these strange habits [at a time too when the good people of N.E. are threaten'd with & dreading the comeing of an episcopal bishop][32] N.B. I dont know whether one sleeve would make a full trimm'd negligee[33] as the fashion is at present, tho' I cant say but it might make one of the frugal sort, with but scant triming. Unkle says, they all have popes in their bellys. Contrary to I. Peter v. 2. 3. Aunt says, when she saw Dr P. roll up the pulpit stairs, the figure of Parson Trulliber, recorded by Mr Fielding occur'd to her mind & she was really sorry a congregational divine, should, by any instance whatever, give her so unpleasing an idea.

Jan^y 11th.—I have attended my schools every day this week except wednesday afternoon. When I made a setting up visit to aunt Suky, & was dress'd just as I was to go to the ball. It cost me a pistoreen[34] to nurse Eaton for tow cakes, which I took care to eat before I paid for them.[35] I heard Mr Thacher preach our Lecture last evening Heb. 11. 3. I remember a great deal of the sermon, but a'nt time to put it down. It is one year last Sep^r since he was ordain'd & he will be 20 years of age next May if he lives so long. I forgot that the weather want fit for me to go to school last thursday. I work'd at home.

Jan^y 17th.—I told you the 27th Ult that I was going to a constitation with miss Soley. I have now the pleasure to give you the result, viz. a very genteel well regulated assembly which we had at Mr Soley's last evening, miss Soley being mistress of the ceremony. Mrs Soley desired me to assist Miss Hannah in making out a list of guests which I did some time since, I wrote all the invitation cards. There was a large company assembled in a handsome, large, upper room in the new end of the house. We had two fiddles, & I had the honor to open the diversion of the evening in a minuet with miss Soley.—Here follows a list of the company as we form'd for country dancing.

Miss Soley & Miss Anna Greene Winslow Miss Calif Miss Scott Miss Williams Miss McCarthy Miss Codman Miss Winslow Miss Ives Miss Coffin Miss Scolley[36] Miss Bella Coffin[37] Miss Waldow Miss Quinsy[38] Miss Glover Miss Draper Miss Hubbard

Miss Cregur (usually pronounced Kicker) & two Miss Sheafs were invited but were sick or sorry & beg'd to be excus'd. There was a little Miss Russell & the little ones of the family present who could not dance. As spectators, there were Mr & Mrs Deming, Mr. & Mrs Sweetser Mr & Mrs Soley, Mr & Miss Cary, Mrs Draper, Miss Oriac, Miss Hannah—our treat was nuts, rasins, Cakes, Wine, punch,[39] hot & cold, all in great plenty. We had a very agreeable evening from 5 to 10 o'clock. For variety we woo'd a widow, hunted the whistle, threaded the needle, & while the company was collecting, we diverted ourselves with playing of pawns, no rudeness Mamma I assure you. Aunt Deming desires you would perticulary observe, that the elderly part of the company were spectators only, they mix'd not in either of the above describ'd scenes.

I was dress'd in my yellow coat, black bib & apron, black feathers on my head, my past comb, & all my past[40] garnet marquesett[41] & jet pins, together with my silver plume—my loket, rings, black collar round my neck, black mitts & 2 or 3 yards of blue ribbin, (black & blue is high tast) striped tucker and ruffels (not my best) & my silk shoes compleated my dress.

Jan^y 18th.—Yesterday I had an invitation to celebrate Miss Caty's birth-day with her. She gave it me the night before. Miss is 10 years old. The best dancer in Mr Turners[42] school, she has been his scoller these 3 years. My aunt thought it proper (as our family had a invitation) that I should attend a neighbor's funeral yesterday P.M. I went directly from it to Miss Caty's Rout & arriv'd ex . . . . . .

BOSTON January 25 1772.

Hon^'d Mamma, My Hon^'d Papa has never signified to me his approbation of my journals, from whence I infer, that he either never reads them, or does not give himself the trouble to remember any of their contents, tho' some part has been address'd to him, so, for the future, I shall trouble only you with this part of my scribble—Last thursday I din'd at Unkle Storer's & spent the afternoon in that neighborhood. I met with some adventures in my way viz. As I was going, I was overtaken by a lady who was quite a stranger to me. She accosted me with "how do you do miss?" I answer'd her, but told her I had not the pleasure of knowing her. She then ask'd "what is your name miss? I believe you think 'tis a very strange questian to ask, but have a mind to know." Nanny Green—She interrupted me with "not Mrs. Winslow of Cumberland's daughter." Yes madam I am. When did you hear from your Mamma? how do's she do? When shall you write to her? When you do, tell her that you was overtaken in the street by her old friend Mrs Login, give my love to her & tell her she must come up soon & live on Jamaca plain. we have got a nice meeting-house, & a charming minister, & all so cleaver. She told me she had ask'd Unkle Harry to bring me to see her, & he said he would. Her minister is Mr Gordon. I have heard him preach several times at the O. South. In the course of my peregrination, as aunt calls it, I happen'd in to a house where D—— was attending the Lady of the family. How long she was at his opperation, I know not. I saw him twist & tug & pick & cut off whole locks of grey hair at a slice (the lady telling him she would have no hair to dress next time) for the space of a hour & a half, when I left them, he seeming not to be near done. This lady is not a grandmother tho' she is both old enough & grey enough to be one.

Jan^y 31—I spent yesterday with Aunt Storer, except a little while I was at Aunt Sukey's with Mrs Barrett dress'd in a white brocade, & cousin Betsey dress'd in a red lutestring, both adorn'd with past, perls marquesett &c. They were after tea escorted by Mr. Newton & Mr Barrett to ye assembly at Concert Hall. This is a snowy day, & I am prevented going to school.

Feb. 9th.—My honored Mamma will be so good as to excuse my useing the pen of my old friend just here, because I am disabled by a whitloe on my fourth finger & something like one on my middle finger, from using my own pen; but altho' my right hand is in bondage, my left is free; & my aunt says, it will be a nice oppertunity if I do but improve it, to perfect myself in learning to spin flax. I am pleased with the proposal & am at this present, exerting myself for this purpose. I hope, when two, or at most three months are past, to give you occular demonstration of my proficiency in this art, as well as several others. My fingers are not the only part of me that has suffer'd with sores within this fortnight, for I have had an ugly great boil upon my right hip & about a dozen small ones—I am at present swath'd hip & thigh, as Samson smote the Philistines, but my soreness is near over. My aunt thought it highly proper to give me some cooling physick, so last tuesday I took 1-2 oz Globe Salt (a disagreeable potion) & kept chamber. Since which, there has been no new erruption, & a great alteration for the better in those I had before.

I have read my bible to my aunt this morning (as is the daily custom) & sometimes I read other books to her. So you may perceive, I have the use of my tongue & I tell her it is a good thing to have the use of my tongue. Unkle Ned[43] called here just now—all well—by the way he is come to live in Boston again, & till he can be better accomodated, is at housekeeping where Mad^m Storer lately lived, he is looking for a less house. I tell my Aunt I feel a disposician to be a good girl, & she pleases herself that she shall have much comfort of me to-day, which as cousin Sally is ironing we expect to have to ourselves.

Feb. 10th.—This day I paid my respects to Master Holbrook, after a week's absence, my finger is still in limbo as you may see by the writeing. I have not paid my compliments to Madam Smith,[44] for, altho' I can drive the goos quill a bit, I cannot so well manage the needle. So I will lay my hand to the distaff, as the virtuous woman did of old—Yesterday was very bad weather, neither aunt, nor niece at publick worship.

Feb. 12th.—Yesterday afternoon I spent at unkle Joshuas. Aunt Green gave me a plaister for my fingure that has near cur'd it, but I have a new boil, which is under poultice, & tomorrow I am to undergo another seasoning with globe Salt. The following lines Aunt Deming found in grandmama Sargent's[45] pocket-book & gives me leave to copy 'em here.—

Dim eyes, deaf ears, cold stomach shew, My dissolution is in view The shuttle's thrown, my race is run, My sun is set, my work is done; My span is out, my tale is told, My flower's decay'd, & stock grows old, The dream is past, the shadows fled, My soul now longs for Christ my head, I've lived to seventy six or nigh, GOD calls at last, & now I'll die.[46]

My honor'd Grandma departed this vale of tears 1-4 before 4 o'clock wednesday morning August 21, 1771. Aged 74 years, 2 months & ten days.

Feb. 13th.—Everybody says that this is a bitter cold day, but I know nothing about it but hearsay for I am in aunt's chamber (which is very warm always) with a nice fire, a stove, sitting in Aunt's easy chair, with a tall three leav'd screen at my back, & I am very comfortable. I took my second (& I hope last) potion of Globe salts this morning. I went to see Aunt Storer yesterday afternoon, & by the way Unkle Storer is so ill that he keeps chamber. As I went down I call'd at Mrs Whitwell's & must tell you Mr & Mrs Whitwell are both ill. Mrs. Whitwell with the rheumatism. I saw Mad^m Harris, Mrs Mason and Miss Polly Vans[47] there, they all give their love to you—Last evening I went to catechizing with Aunt. Our ministers have agreed during the long evenings to discourse upon the questions or some of 'em in the assembly's shorter catechism, taking 'em in their order at the house of Mrs Rogers in School Street, every wednesday evening. Mr. Hunt began with the first question and shew'd what it is to glorify GOD. Mr Bacon then took the second, what rule &c. which he has spent three evenings upon, & now finished. Mr Hunt having taken his turn to show what the Scriptures principly teach, & what is GOD. I remember he said that there was nothing properly done without a rule, & he said that the rule God had given us to glorify him by was the bible. How miraculously (said he) has God preserv'd this blessed book. It was once in the reign of a heathen emperor condemn'd to be burnt, at which time it was death to have a bible & conceal it, but God's providence was wonderful in preserving it when so much human policy had been exerted to bury it in Oblivion—but for all that, here we have it as pure & uncorrupted as ever—many books of human composure have had much pains taken to preserve 'em, notwithstanding they are buried in Oblivion. He considered who was the author of the bible, he prov'd that GOD was the author, for no good man could be the author, because such a one would not be guilty of imposition, & an evil man could not unless we suppose a house divided against itself. he said a great deal more to prove the bible is certainly the word of God from the matter it contains &c, but the best evidence of the truth of divine revelation, every true believer has in his own heart. This he said, the natural man had no idea of. I did not understand all he said about the external and internal evidence, but this I can say, that I understand him better than any body else that I hear preach. Aunt has been down stairs all the time I have been recolecting & writeing this. Therefore, all this of own head, of consequence.

Valentine day.[48]—My cousin Sally reeled off a 10 knot skane of yarn today. My valentine was an old country plow-joger. The yarn was of my spinning. Aunt says it will do for filling. Aunt also says niece is a whimsical child.

Feb. 17.—Since Wednesday evening, I have not been abroad since yesterday afternoon. I went to meeting & back in Mr. Soley's chaise. Mr. Hunt preached. He said that human nature is as opposite to God as darkness to light. That our sin is only bounded by the narrowness of our capacity. His text was Isa. xli. 14. 18. The mountains &c. He said were unbelief, pride, covetousness, enmity, &c. &c. &c. This morning I took a walk for Aunt as far as Mr. Soley's. I called at Mrs Whitwell's & found the good man & lady both better than when I saw them last. On my return I found Mr. Hunt on a visit to aunt. After the usual salutations & when did you hear from your papa &c. I ask'd him if the blessing pronounced by the minister before the congregation is dismissed, is not a part of the publick worship? "Yes."

"Why then, do you Sir, say, let us conclude the publick worship by singing?" "Because singing is the last act in which the whole congregation is unanimously to join. The minister in Gods name blesses his i.e. Gods people agreeable to the practice of the apostles, who generally close the epistles with a benediction in the name of the Trinity, to which, Amen is subjoined, which, tho' pronounc'd by the minister, is, or ought to be the sentiment & prayer of the whole assembly, the meaning whereof is, So be it."

Feb. 18th.—Another ten knot skane of my yarn was reel'd off today. Aunt says it is very good. My boils & whitloes are growing well apace, so that I can knit a little in the evening.

Transcribed from the Boston Evening Post:

Sep. 18, 1771. Under the head of London news, you may find that last Thursday was married at Worcester the Widow Biddle of Wellsburn in the county of Warwick, to her grandson John Biddle of the same place, aged twenty three years. It is very remarkable. the widdow had one son & one daughter; 18 grandchildren & 5 great grandchildren; her present husband has one daughter, who was her great granddaughter but is now become her daughter; her other great grandchildren are become her cousins; her grandchildren her brothers & sisters; her son & daughter her father & mother. I think! tis the most extraordinary account I ever read in a News-Paper. It will serve to puzzel Harry Dering with.

[Transcriber's Note: "I think! tis" may be a typographical error for "I think 'tis".]

Monday Feb. 18th—Bitter cold. I am just come from writing school. Last Wednesday P.M. while I was at school Aunt Storer called in to see Aunt Deming in her way to Mr Inches's. She walk'd all that long way. Thursday last I din'd & spent the afternoon with Aunt Sukey. I attended both my schools in the morning of that day. I cal'd at unkle Joshua's as I went along, as I generally do, when I go in town, it being all in my way. Saterday I din'd at Unkle Storer's, drank tea at Cousin Barrel's, was entertain'd in the afternoon with scating. Unkle Henry was there. Yesterday by the help of neighbor Soley's Chaise, I was at meeting all day, tho' it snow'd in the afternoon. I might have say'd I was at Unkle Winslow's last Thursday Eve^g & when I inform you that my needle work at school, & knitting at home, went on as usual, I think I have laid before you a pretty full account of the last week. You see how I improve in my writing, but I drive on as fast as I can.

Feb. 21, Thursday.—This day Jack Frost bites very hard, so hard aunt won't let me go to any school. I have this morning made part of a coppy with the very pen I have now in my hand, writting this with. Yesterday was so cold there was a very thick vapor upon the water, but I attended my schools all day. My unkle says yesterday was 10 degrees colder than any day we have had before this winter. And my aunt says she believes this day is 10 degrees colder than it was yesterday; & moreover, that she would not put a dog out of doors. The sun gives forth his rays through a vapor like that which was upon the water yesterday. But Aunt bids me give her love to pappa & all the family & tell them that she should be glad of their company in her warm parlour, indeed there is not one room in this house but is very warm when there is a good fire in them. As there is in this at present. Yesterday I got leave (by my aunt's desire) to go from school at 4 o'clock to see my unkle Ned who has had the misfortune to break his leg. I call'd in to warm myself at unkle Joshua's. Aunt Hannah told me I had better not go any further for she could tell me all about him, so I say'd as it is so cold I believe aunt won't be angry so I will stay, I therefore took off my things, aunt gave me leave to call at Unkle Joshua's & was very glad I went no further. Aunt Hannah told me he was as well as could be expected for one that has a broken bone. He was coming from Watertown in a chaise the horse fell down on the Hill, this side Mr Brindley's. he was afraid if he fell out, the wheel would run over him, he therefore gave a start & fell out & broke his leg, the horse strugled to get up, but could not. unkle Ned was affraid if he did get up the chaise wheels would run over him, so he went on his two hands and his other foot drawing his lame leg after him & got behind the chaise, (so he was safe) & there lay in the snow for some time, nobody being near. at last 2 genteelmen came, they tho't the horse was dead when they first saw him at a distance, but hearing somebody hollow, went up to it. By this time there was a countraman come along, the person that hollow'd was unkle Ned. They got a slay and put him in it with some hay and a blanket, wrapt him up well as they could & brought him to Deacon Smith's in town. Now Papa & Mamma, this hill is in Brookline. And now again, I have been better inform'd for the hill is in Roxbury & poor Unkle Ned was alone in the chaise. Both bones of his leg are broke, but they did not come thro' the skin, which is a happy circumstance. It is his right leg that is broke. My Grandmamma sent Miss Deming, Miss Winslow & I one eight^th of a Dollar a piece for a New Years gift. My Aunt Deming & Miss Deming had letters from Grandmamma. She was pretty well, she wrote aunt that Mrs Marting was brought to bed with a son Joshua about a month since, & is with her son very well. Grandmamma was very well last week. I have made the purchase I told you of a few pages agone, that is, last Thursday I purchas'd with my aunt Deming's leave, a very beautiful white feather hat, that is, the out side, which is a bit of white hollond with the feathers sew'd on in a most curious manner white & unsullyed as the falling snow, this hat I have long been saving my money to procure for which I have let your kind allowance, Papa, lay in my aunt's hands till this hat which I spoke for was brought home. As I am (as we say) a daughter of liberty[49] I chuse to wear as much of our own manufactory as pocible. But my aunt says, I have wrote this account very badly. I will go on to save my money for a chip & a lineing &c.

Papa I rec'd your letter dated Jan. 11, for which I thank you, Sir, & thank you greatly for the money I received therewith. I am very glad to hear that Brother John papa & mamma & cousin are well. I'll answer your letter papa and yours mamma and cousin Harry's too. I am very glad mamma your eyes are better. I hope by the time I have the pleasure of hearing from Cumberland again your eyes will be so well that you will favor me with one from you.

Feb. 22d.—Since about the middle of December, ult. we have had till this week, a series of cold and stormy weather—every snow storm (of which we have had abundance) except the first, ended with rain, by which means the snow was so hardened that strong gales at NW soon turned it, & all above ground to ice, which this day seven-night was from one to three, four & they say, in some places, five feet thick, in the streets of this town. Last saturday morning we had a snow storm come on, which continued till four o'clock P.M. when it turned to rain, since which we have had a warm air, with many showers of rain, one this morning a little before day attended with thunder. The streets have been very wet, the water running like rivers all this week, so that I could not possibly go to school, neither have I yet got the bandage off my fingure. Since I have been writing now, the wind suddenly sprung up at NW and blew with violence so that we may get to meeting to-morrow, perhaps on dry ground. Unkle Ned was here just now & has fairly or unfairly carried off aunt's cut paper pictures,[50] tho' she told him she had given them to papa some years ago. It has been a very sickly time here, not one person that I know of but has been under heavy colds—(all laid up at unkle Storer's) in general got abroad again. Aunt Suky had not been down stairs since her lying in, when I last saw her, but I hear she is got down. She has had a broken breast. I have spun 30 knots of linning yarn, and (partly) new footed a pair of stockings for Lucinda, read a part of the pilgrim's progress, coppied part of my text journal (that if I live a few years longer, I may be able to understand it, for aunt sais, that to her, the contents as I first mark'd them, were an impenetrable secret) play'd some, tuck'd a great deal (Aunt Deming says it is very true) laugh'd enough, & I tell aunt it is all human nature, if not human reason. And now, I wish my honored mamma a very good night.

Saturday noon Feb. 23d—Dear Pappa, do's the winter continue as pleasant at Cumberland as when you wrote to me last? We had but very little winter here, till February came in, but we have little else since. The cold still continues tho' not so extreme as it was last Thursday. I have attended my schools all this week except one day, and am going as soon as I have din'd to see how Unkle Ned does. I was thinking, Sir, to lay up a piece of money you sent me, but as you sent it to me to lay out I have a mind to buy a chip & linning for my feather hatt. But my aunt says she will think of it. My aunt says if I behave myself very well indeed, not else, she will give me a garland of flowers to orniment it, tho' she has layd aside the biziness of flower making.[51]

Feb. 25th.—This is a very stormy day of snow, hail & rain, so that I cannot get to Master Holbrook's, therefore I will here copy something I lately transcribed on a loose paper from Dr. Owen's sermon on Hab. iii, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9. "I have heard that a full wind behind the ship drives her not so fast forward, as a side wind, that seems almost as much against her as with her; & the reason they say is, because a full wind fills but some of her sails.

Wednesday.—Very cold, but this morning I was at sewing and writing school, this afternoon all sewing, for Master Holbrook does not in the winter keep school of afternoons. Unkle Henrys feet are so much better that he wears shoos now.

Monday noon Feb. 25th. I have been to writing school this morning and Sewing. The day being very pleasant, very little wind stirring. Jemima called to see me last evening. She lives at Master Jimmy Lovel's.[52] Dear mamma, I suppose that you would be glad to hear that Betty Smith who has given you so much trouble, is well & behaves herself well & I should be glad if I could write you so. But the truth is, no sooner was the 29th Regiment encamp'd upon the common but miss Betty took herself among them (as the Irish say) & there she stay'd with Bill Pinchion & awhile. The next news of her was, that she was got into gaol for stealing: from whence she was taken to the publick whipping post.[53] The next adventure was to the Castle, after the soldier's were remov'd there, for the murder of the 5th March last.[54] When they turn'd her away from there, she came up to town again, and soon got into the workhouse for new misdemeanours, she soon ran away from there and sit up her old trade of pilfering again, for which she was put a second time into gaol, there she still remains. About two months agone (as well as I can remember) she & a number of her wretched companions set the gaol on fire, in order to get out, but the fire was timely discovered & extinguished, & there, as I said she still remains till this day, in order to be tried for her crimes. I heard somebody say that as she has some connections with the army no doubt but she would be cleared, and perhaps, have a pension into the bargain. Mr. Henry says the way of sin is down hill, when persons get into that way they are not easily stopped.

Feb. 27.—This day being too stormy for me to go to any school, and nothing as yet having happen'd that is worth your notice, my aunt gives me leave to communicate to you something that much pleas'd her when she heard of it, & which I hope will please you my Papa and Mamma. I believe I may have inform'd you that since I have been in Boston, Dr. Byles[55] has pretty frequently preached & sometimes administer'd the sacrament, when our Candidates have preached to the O.S. Church, because they are not tho't qualified to administer Gospel Ordinance, till they be settled Pastours. About two months ago a brother of the church sent Dr Byles a Card which contain'd after the usual introduction, the following words, Mr W—— dont set up for an Expositor of Scripture, yet ventures to send Dr. Byles a short comment on 1 Cor. ix. 11. which he thinks agreeable to the genuine import of the text, & hopes the Dr will not disapprove it. The comment was a dozen pounds of Chocolate &c.—To which the D^r return'd the following very pretty answer. D^r Byles returns respects to Mr W & most heartily thanks him for his judicious practical Familie Expositor, which is in Tast. My aunt Deming gives her love to you mamma, and bids me tell you, as a matter you will be very glad to know, that D^r Byles & his lady & family, have enjoy'd a good share of health & perfect harmony for several years past.

Mr Beacon is come home. My unkle Neddy is very comfortable, has very little pain, & know fever with his broken bone. My Unkle Harry[56] was here yesterday & is very well. Poor Mrs Inches is dangerously ill of a fever. We have not heard how she does today.

March 4th.—Poor Mrs Inches is dead. Gone from a world of trouble, as she has left this to her poor mother. Aunt says she heartyly pities Mrs Jackson. Mr Nat. Bethune died this morning, Mrs Inches last night.

We had the greatest fall of snow yesterday we have had this winter. Yet cousin Sally, miss Polly, & I rode to & from meeting in Mr Soley's chaise both forenoon & afternoon, & with a stove[57] was very comfortable there. If brother John is as well and hearty as cousin Frank, he is a clever boy. Unkle Neddy continues very comfortable. I saw him last saturday. I have just now been writing four lines in my Book almost as well as the copy. But all the intreaties in the world will not prevail upon me to do always as well as I can, which is not the least trouble to me, tho' its a great grief to aunt Deming. And she says by writing so frightfully above.

March 6.—I think the appearance this morning is as winterish as any I can remember, earth, houses, trees, all covered with snow, which began to fall yesterday morning & continued falling all last night. The Sun now shines very bright, the N.W. wind blows very fresh. Mr Gannett din'd here yesterday, from him, my unkle, aunt & cousin Sally, I had an account of yesterday's publick performances,[58] & exhibitions, but aunt says I need not write about 'em because, no doubt there will be printed accounts. I should have been glad if I could have seen & heard for myselfe. My face is better, but I have got a heavy cold yet.

March 9th.—After being confined a week, I rode yesterday afternoon to & from meeting in Mr Soley's chaise. I got no cold and am pretty well today. This has been a very snowy day today. Any body that sees this may see that I have wrote nonsense but Aunt says, I have been a very good girl to day about my work however—I think this day's work may be called a piece meal for in the first place I sew'd on the bosom of unkle's shirt, mended two pair of gloves, mended for the wash two handkerchiefs, (one cambrick) sewed on half a border of a lawn apron of aunts, read part of the xxi^st chapter of Exodous, & a story in the Mother's gift. Now, Hon^d Mamma, I must tell you of something that happened to me to-day, that has not happen'd before this great while, viz My Unkle & Aunt both told me, I was a very good girl. Mr Gannett gave us the favour of his company a little while this morning (our head). I have been writing all the above gibberish while aunt has been looking after her family—now she is out of the room—now she is in—& takes up my pen in my absence to observe, I am a little simpleton for informing my mamma, that it is a great while since I was prais'd because she will conclude that it is a great while since I deserv'd to be prais'd. I will henceforth try to observe their praise & yours too. I mean deserve. It's now tea time—as soon as that is over, I shall spend the rest of the evening in reading to my aunt. It is near candle lighting.

March 10, 5 o'clock P.M.—I have finish'd my stent of sewing work for this day & wrote a billet to Miss Caty Vans, a copy of which I shall write on the next page. To-morrow if the weather is fit I am to visit. I have again been told I was a good girl. My Billet to Miss Vans was in the following words. Miss Green gives her compliments to Miss Vans, and informs her that her aunt Deming quite misunderstood the matter about the queen's night-Cap.[59] Mrs. Deming thou't that it was a black skull cap linn'd with red that Miss Vans ment which she thou't would not be becoming to Miss Green's light complexion. Miss Green now takes the liberty to send the materials for the Cap Miss Vans was so kind as to say she would make for her, which, when done, she engages to take special care of for Miss Vans' sake. Mrs. Deming joins her compliments with Miss Green's—they both wish for the pleasure of a visit from Miss Vans. Miss Soley is just come in to visit me & 'tis near dark.

March 11.—Boast not thyself of tomorrow; for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth. Thus king Solomon, inspired by the Holy Ghost, cautions, Pro. xxvii. 1. My aunt says, this is a most necessary lesson to be learn'd & laid up in the heart. I am quite of her mind. I have met with a disappointment to day, & aunt says, I may look for them every day—we live in a changing world—in scripture call'd a vale of tears. Uncle said yesterday that there had not been so much snow on the ground this winter as there was then—it has been vastly added to since then, & is now 7 feet deep in some places round this house; it is above the fence in the coart & thick snow began to fall and condtinu'd till about 5 o'clock P.M. (it is about 1-4 past 8 o'clock) since which there has been a steady rain—so no visiting as I hoped this day, & this is the disappointment I mentioned on t'other page. Last saturday I sent my cousin Betsy Storer a Billet of which the following is a copy. Miss Green gives her love to Miss Storer & informs her that she is very sensible of the effects of a bad cold, not only in the pain she has had in her throat, neck and face, which have been much swell'd & which she is not quite clear of, but that she has also been by the same depriv'd of the pleasure of seeing Miss Storer & her other friends in Sudbury Street. She begs, her Duty, Love & Compliments, may be presented as due & that she may be inform'd if they be in health. To this I have receiv'd no answer. I suppose she don't think I am worth an answer. But I have finished my stent, and wrote all under this date, & now I have just daylight eno' to add, my love and duty to dear friends at Cumberland.

March 14.—Mr. Stephen March, at whose house I was treated so kindly last fall, departed this life last week, after languishing several months under a complication of disorders—we have not had perticulars, therefore cannot inform you, whether he engag'd the King of terrors with Christian fortitude, or otherwise.

"Stoop down my Thoughts, that use to rise, Converse a while with Death; Think how a gasping Mortal lies, And pants away his Breath."

Last Thursday I din'd with unkle Storer, & family at aunt Sukey's—all well except Charles Storer who was not so ill but what, that I mean, he din'd with us. Aunt Suky's Charles is a pretty little boy & grows nicely. We were diverted in the afternoon with an account of a queer Feast that had been made that day in a certain Court of this town for the Entertainment of a number of Tories—perhaps seventeen. One contain'd three calves heads (skin off) with their appurtinencies anciently call'd pluck—Their other dish (for they had but two) contain'd a number of roast fowls—half a dozen, we suppose,[A] & all roosters at this season no doubt. Yesterday, soon after I came from writing school we had another snow storm begun, which continued till after I went to bed. This morning the sun shines clear (so it did yesterday morning till 10 o'clock.) It is now bitter cold, & such a quantity of snow upon the ground, as the Old people don't remember ever to have seen before at this time of the year. My aunt Deming says, when she first look'd abroad this morning she felt anxious for her brother, & his family at Cumberland, fearing lest they were covered up in snow. It is now 1-2 after 12 o'clock noon. The sun has been shineing in his full strength for full 6 hours, & the snow not melted enough anywhere in sight of this house, to cause one drop of water.

[Footnote A: There was six as I have since heard.]

March 17.—Yesterday, I went to see aunt Polly, & finding her going out, I spent the afternoon with aunt Hannah. While I was out, a snow storm overtook me. This being a fine sun shine (tho' cold) day I have been to writing school, & wrote two pieces, one I presented to aunt Deming, and the other I design for my Honor'd Papa, I hope he will approve of it. I sent a piece of my writing to you Hon'd Mamma last fall, which I hope you receiv'd. When my aunt Deming was a little girl my Grandmamma Sargent told her the following story viz. One Mr. Calf who had three times enjoy'd the Mayorality of the city of London, had after his decease, a monoment erected to his memory with the following inscription on it.

Here lies buried the body of Sir Richard Calf, Thrice Lord Mayor of London. Honor, Honor, Honor.

A drol gentleman passing by with a bit of chalk in his hand underwrote thus—

O cruel death! more subtle than a Fox That would not let this Calf become an Ox, That he might browze among the briers & thorns And with his brethren wear, Horns. Horns. Horns.

My aunt told me the foregoing some time since & today I ask'd her leave to insert it in my journal. My aunt gives her love to you & directs me to tell you that she tho't my piece of linnin would have made me a dozen of shifts but she could cut no more than ten out of it. There is some left, but not enough for another. Nine of them are finish'd wash'd & iron'd; & the other would have been long since done if my fingers had not been sore. My cousin Sally made three of them for me, but then I made two shirts & part of another for unkle to help her. I believe unless something remarkable should happen, such as a warm day, my mamma will consent that I dedicate a few of my next essays to papa. I think the second thing I said to aunt this morning was, that I intended to be very good all day. To make this out,

"Next unto God, dear Parents I address Myself to you in humble Thankfulness, For all your Care & Charge on me bestow'd; The means of Learning unto me allow'd, Go on I pray, & let me still pursue Those Golden ARTS the Vulgar never knew."

Yr Dutifull Daughter


The poetry I transcrib'd from my Copy Book.

March 19.—Thursday last I spent at home, except a quarter of an hour between sunset and dark, I stepped over the way to Mr. Glover's with aunt. Yesterday I spent at Unkle Neddy's & stitched wristbands for aunt Polly. By the way, I must inform you, (pray dont let papa see this) that yesterday I put on No 1 of my new shifts, & indeed it is very comfortable. It is long since I had a shift to my back. I dont know if I ever had till now—It seem'd so strange too, to have any linen below my waist—I am going to dine at Mrs. Whitwell's to day, by invitation. I spent last evening at Mrs Rogers. Mr Hunt discoursed upon the doctrine of the Trinity—it was the second time that he spoke upon the subject at that place. I did not hear him the first time. His business last eve^g was to prove the divinity of the Son, & holy Ghost, & their equality with the Father. My aunt Deming says, it is a grief to her, that I don't always write as well as I can, I can write pretily.

March 21.—I din'd & spent the afternoon of Thursday last, at Mrs Whitwell's. Mrs Lathrop, & Mrs Carpenter din'd there also. The latter said she was formerly acquainted with mamma, ask'd how she did, & when I heard from her,—said, I look'd much like her. Madam Harris & Miss P. Vans were also of the company. While I was abroad the snow melted to such a degree, that my aunt was oblig'd to get Mr Soley's chaise to bring me home. Yesterday, we had by far the gratest storm of wind & snow that there has been this winter. It began to fall yesterday morning & continued falling till after our family were in bed. (P.M.) Mr. Hunt call'd in to visit us just after we rose from diner; he ask'd me, whether I had heard from my papa & mamma, since I wrote 'em. He was answer'd, no sir, it would be strange if I had, because I had been writing to 'em today, & indeed so I did every day. Aunt told him that his name went frequently into my journals together with broken & some times whole sentences of his sermons, conversations &c. He laugh'd & call'd me Newsmonger, & said I was a daily advertiser. He added, that he did not doubt but my journals afforded much entertainment & would be a future benefit &c. Here is a fine compliment for me mamma.

March 26.—Yesterday at 6 o'clock, I went to Unkle Winslow's, their neighbor Greenleaf was their. She said she knew Mamma, & that I look like her. Speaking about papa & you occation'd Unkle Winslow to tell me that he had kiss'd you long before papa knew you. From thence we went to Miss Rogers's where, to a full assembly Mr Bacon read his 3d sermon on R. iv. 6, I can remember he said, that, before we all sinned in Adam our father, Christ loved us. He said the Son of God always did as his father gave him commandment, & to prove this, he said, that above 17 hundred years ago he left the bosom of the Father, & came & took up his abode with men, & bore all the scourgings & buffetings which the vile Jews inflicted on him, & then was hung upon the accursed tree—he died, was buried, & in three days rose again—ascended up to heaven & there took his seat at the right hand of the Majesty on high from whence he will come to be the supream and impartial judge of quick & dead—and when his poor Mother & her poor husband went to Jerusalem to keep the passover & he went with them, he disputed among the doctors, & when his Mother ask'd him about it he said "wist ye not that I must be about my Father's business,"—all this he said was a part of that wrighteousness for the sake of which a sinner is justafied—Aunt has been up stairs all the time I have been writeing & recollecting this—so no help from her. She is come down now & I have been reading this over to her. She sais, she is glad I remember so much, but I have not done the subject justice. She sais I have blended things somewhat improperly—an interuption by company.

March 28.—Unkle Harry was here last evening & inform'd us that by a vessel from Halifax which arriv'd yesterday, Mr H Newton, inform'd his brother Mr J Newton of the sudden death of their brother Hibbert in your family 21 January ult. (Just five months to a day since Grandmamma Sargent's death.) With all the circumstances relating to it. My aunt Deming gives her love to Mamma & wishes her a sanctified improvement of all God's dealings with her, & that it would please him to bring her & all the family safe to Boston. Jarvis is put up for Cumberland, we hope he will be there by or before Mayday. This minute I have receiv'd my queen's night cap from Miss Caty Vans—we like it. Aunt says, that if the materials it is made of were more substantial than gauze, it might serve occationally to hold any thing mesur'd by an 1-2 peck, but it is just as it should be, & very decent, & she wishes my writing was as decent. But I got into one of my frolicks, upon sight of the Cap.

April 1st.—Will you be offended mamma, if I ask you, if you remember the flock of wild Geese that papa call'd you to see flying over the Blacksmith's shop this day three years? I hope not; I only mean to divert you. The snow is near gone in the street before us, & mud supplys the place thereof; After a week's absence, I this day attended Master Holbrook with some difficulty, what was last week a pond is to-day a quag, thro' which I got safe however, & if aunt[A] had known it was so bad, she sais she would not have sent me, but I neither wet my feet, nor drabled my clothes, indeed I have but one garment that I could contrive to drabble.

N.B. It is 1 April.

[Footnote A: Miss Green tells her aunt, that the word refer'd to begins with a dipthong.]

April 3.—Yesterday was the annual Fast, & I was at meeting all day. Mr Hunt preach'd A.M. from Zac. vii. 4, 5, 6, 7. He said, that if we did not mean as we said in pray's it was only a compliment put upon God, which was a high affront to his divine Majesty. Mr Bacon, P.M. from James v. 17. He said, "pray's, effectual & fervent, might be, where there were no words, but there might be elegant words where there is no prayr's. The essence of pray's consists in offering up holy desires to God agreeable to his will,—it is the flowing out of gracious affections—what then are the pray'rs of an unrenewed heart that is full of enmity to God? doubtless they are an abomination to him. What then, must not unregenerate men pray? I answer, it is their duty to breathe out holy desires to God in pray's. Prayer is a natural duty. Hannah pour'd out her soul before the Lord, yet her voice was not heard, only her lips moved. Some grieve and complain that their pray's are not answered, but if thy will be done is, as it ought to be, in every prayer; their prayers are answer'd."

The wind was high at N.E. all day yesterday, but nothing fell from the dark clouds that overspread the heavens, till 8 o'clock last evening, when a snow began which has continued falling ever since. The bell being now ringing for 1 o'clock P.M. & no sign of abatement.

My aunt Deming says, that if my memory had been equal to the memory of some of my ancestors, I might have done better justice to Mr. Bacon's good sermon, & that if hers had been better than mine she would have helped me. Mr Bacon did say what is here recorded, but in other method.

April 6.—I made a shift to walk to meeting yesterday morning. But there was so much water in the streets when I came home from meeting that I got a seat in Mr Waleses chaise. My aunt walk'd home & she sais thro' more difaculty than ever she did in her life before. Indeed had the stream get up from our meeting house as it did down, we might have taken boat as we have talk'd some times of doing to cross the street to our oposite neighbor Soley's chaise. I remember some of Mr Hunts sermon, how much will appear in my text journal.

April 7.—I visited yesterday P.M. with my aunt at Mr Waldron's. This afternoon I am going with my aunt to visit Mrs Salisbury who is Dr Sewall's granddaughter, I expect Miss Patty Waldow will meet me there. It is but a little way & we can now thro' favour cross the street without the help of a boat. I saw Miss Polly Vans this morning. She gives her love to you. As she always does whenever I see her. Aunt Deming is this minute come into the room, & from what her niece has wrote last, takes the liberty to remind you, that Miss Vans is a sister of the Old South Church, a society remarkable for Love. Aunt Deming is sorry she has spoil'd the look of this page by her carelessness & hopes her niece will mend its appearance in what follows. She wishes my English had been better, but has not time to correct more than one word.

April 9.—We made the visit refer'd to above. The company was old Mrs Salisbury,[60] Mrs Hill, (Mrs Salisbury's sister she was Miss Hannah Sewall & is married to young Mr James Hill that us'd to live in this house) Miss Sally Hill, Miss Polly Belcher Lyde, Miss Caty Sewall, My Aunt & myself. Yesterday afternoon I visited Miss Polly Deming & took her with me to Mr Rogers' in the evening where Mr Hunt discours'd upon the 7th question of the catechism viz what are the decrees of God? I remember a good many of his observations, which I have got set down on a loose paper. But my aunt says that a Miss of 12 year's old cant possibly do justice to the nicest subject in Divinity, & therefore had better not attempt a repetition of perticulars, that she finds lie (as may be easily concluded) somewhat confused in my young mind. She also says, that in her poor judgment, Mr Hunt discours'd soundly as well as ingeniously upon the subject, & very much to her instruction & satisfaction. My Papa inform'd me in his last letter that he had done me the honor to read my journals & that he approv'd of some part of them, I suppose he means that he likes some parts better than other, indeed it would be wonderful, as aunt says, if a gentleman of papa's understanding & judgment cou'd be highly entertain'd with every little saying or observation that came from a girl of my years & that I ought to esteem it a great favour that he notices any of my simple matter with his approbation.

April 13th.—Yesterday I walk'd to meeting all day, the ground very dry, & when I came home from meeting in the afternoon the Dust blew so that it almost put my eyes out. What a difference in the space of a week. I was just going out to writing school, but a slight rain prevented so aunt says I must make up by writing well at home. Since I have been writing the rain is turn'd to snow, which is now falling in a thick shower. I have now before me, hon^d. Mamma, your favor dated January 3. I am glad you alter'd your mind when you at first thought not to write to me. I am glad my brother made an essay for a Post Script to your Letter. I must get him to read it to me, when he comes up, for two reasons, the one is because I may have the pleasure of hearing his voice, the other because I don't understand his characters. I observe that he is mamma's "Ducky Darling." I never again shall believe that Mrs Huston will come up to Boston till I see her here. I shall be very glad to see Mrs Law here & I have some hopes of it. Mr Gannett and the things you sent by him we safely receiv'd before I got your Letter—you say "you see I am still a great housekeeper," I think more so than when I was with you. Truly I answer'd Mr Law's letter as soon as I found opportunity therefor. I shall be very glad to see Miss Jenny here & I wish she could live with me. I hope you will answer this "viva vosa" as you say you intend to. Pray mamma who larnt you lattan? It now rains fast, but the sun shines, & I am glad to see it, because if it continues I am going abroad with aunt this afternoon.

April 14th.—I went a visiting yesterday to Col. Gridley's with my aunt. After tea Miss Becky Gridley sung a minuet. Miss Polly Deming & I danced to her musick, which when perform'd was approv'd of by Mrs Gridley, Mrs Deming, Mrs Thompson, Mrs Avery,[61] Miss Sally Hill, Miss Becky Gridley, Miss Polly Gridley & Miss Sally Winslow. Col^n Gridley was out o' the room. Col^n brought in the talk of Whigs & Tories & taught me the difference between them. I spent last evening at home. I should have gone a visiting to day in sudbury street, but Unkle Harry told me last night that they would be full of company. I had the pleasure of hearing by him, that they were all well. I believe I shall go somewhere this afternoon for I have acquaintances enough that would be very glad to see me, as well as my sudbury street friends.

April 15th.—Yesterday I din'd at Mrs. Whitwell's & she being going abroad, I spent the afternoon at Mad^m Harris's & the evening at home, Unkle Harry gave us his company some part of it. I am going to Aunt Storer's as soon as writing school is done. I shall dine with her, if she is not engaged. It is a long time since I was there, & indeed it is a long time since I have been able to get there. For tho' the walking has been pretty tolerable at the South End, it has been intolerable down in town. And indeed till yesterday, it has been such bad walking, that I could not get there on my feet. If she had wanted much to have seen me, she might have sent either one of her chaises, her chariot, or her babyhutt,[62] one of which I see going by the door almost every day.

April 16th.—I dined with Aunt Storer yesterday & spent the afternoon very agreeably at Aunt Suky's. Aunt Storer is not very well, but she drank tea with us, & went down to Mr Stillman's lecture in the evening. I spent the evening with Unkle & Aunt at Mrs Rogers's. Mr Bacon preach'd his fourth sermon from Romans iv. 6. My cousin Charles Storer lent me Gulliver's Travels abreviated, which aunt says I may read for the sake of perfecting myself in reading a variety of composures. she sais farther that the piece was desin'd as a burlesque upon the times in which it was wrote,—& Martimas Scriblensis & Pope Dunciad were wrote with the same design & as parts of the same work, tho' wrote by three several hands.

April 17th.—You see, Mamma, I comply with your orders (or at least have done father's some time past) of writing in my journal every day tho' my matters are of little importance & I have nothing at present to communicate except that I spent yesterday afternoon & evening at Mr Soley's. The day was very rainy. I hope I shall at least learn to spell the word yesterday, it having occur'd so frequently in these pages! (The bell is ringing for good friday.) Last evening aunt had a letter from Unkle Pierce, he informs her, that last Lords day morning Mrs Martin was deliver'd of a daughter. She had been siezed the Monday before with a violent pluritick fever, which continued when my Unkle's letter was dated 13th instant. My Aunt Deming is affraid that poor Mrs Martin is no more. She hopes she is reconcil'd to her father—but is affraid whether that was so—She had try'd what was to be done that way on her late visits to Portsmouth, & found my unkle was placably dispos'd, poor Mrs Martin, she could not then be brought to make any acknowledgements as she ought to have done.

1  2     Next Part
Home - Random Browse