December 25.—
Christmas Day: gathered a handful of daisies in full bloom: saw a woodbine and dogrose in the woods putting out in full leaf, and a primrose root full of ripe flowers. What a day this used to be when I was a boy! How eager I used to be to attend the church to see it stuck with evergreens (emblems of eternity), and the cottage windows, and the picture ballads on the wall, all stuck with ivy, holly, box, and yew! Such feelings are past, and "all this world is proud of."
January 7, 1825.—
Bought some cakes of colours with the intention of trying to make sketches of curious snail horns, butterflies, moths, sphinxes, wild flowers, and whatever my wanderings may meet with that are not too common.
January 19.—
Just completed the 9th chapter of my life. Corrected the poem on the
"Vanities of the World," which I have written in imitation of the old
poets, on whom I mean to father it, and send it to Montgomery's paper
"The Iris," or the "Literary Chronicle," under that character.
February 26.—
Received a letter in rhyme from a John Pooley, who ran me tenpence further in debt, as I had not money to pay the postage.
March 6.—
Parish officers are modern savages, as the following will testify: "Crowland Abbey.—Certain surveyors have lately dug up several foundation stones of the Abbey, and also a great quantity of stone coffins, for the purpose of repairing the parish roads."—Stamford Mercury.