WEDDING PARTY IN BOSTON IN 1756
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 Madm 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]