1771-1773.
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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.
Novr 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.