Sunday 20.
The weather still cloudy, damp, and disagreeable, but it is perfectly calm; people here attribute this so long dullness to the Sun crossing the Line which is to happen to-morrow—After Breakfast Mr Stadley left us, The day is so bad none of us go to Church—Before Dinner I received from Mr Lane, by his Servant a Note, informing me that he is to set out tomorrow for home—In return, by the Same bearer, I wrote him my Compliments in a letter; desiring him to remember me to my Acquaintances in Pennsylvania, & New Jersey, as he will probably soon see many of them—I spent much of this Day in Mr Carters Library among the works of mighty-Men; I turned over Calmets, Scripture prints, they are beautiful, & vastly entertaining—At Dinner by some means, I know not how a conversation was introduced concerning the Souls of Women; Mrs Carter observed that She has heard they have no Souls—Says Miss Priscilla in a moment if I thought so I would not have spent all this morning in Reading; nor would Women, (Said the well discerning Miss) be careful to avoid any Shameful, or Sinful Action—It is not unlikly but those are the private Sentiments of many among the Fair; & no doubt they would be generally and publickly practised if it should be universally admitted that the Soul of a Woman is not to exist after the present Life.
Monday 21.
This day the days and nights are equal—The Sun enters Aries—Aries [Libra] dies Somniq: pares ubi fecerit Horas, Et medium suis atq: Umbris jam dividet Orbem. Virgil. Georgic I.
At Breakfast Mrs Carter asked me who is foremost in Arithmetic; whether Bob, or Prissy? At which Mr Carter observed, that him of his Sons whom he finds most capable of doing Business when he leaves the World, & his Estate, Shall have the management of the whole, & support the Rest. It seemed to me to be not an ill-chosen Incentive to Diligence among the Boys—
This morning still cloudy, the wind at South—about ten a black-gloomy cloud appeared in the west; it came over like Virgils—Omnia Ventorum concurrere proelia [vidi]—The wind changed with the cloud to the westward—Dined with us Mr Washington & Mr Philip Smith, Brother to the Parson of this parish, to whom I was formally introduced—Toasts as usual—Towards Evening it grows more pleasant & after School, I had the pleasure of a walk in the Garden with Mrs Carter, Miss Stanhope, & Miss Harriot—The peas have grown admirably since my last Walk; & indeed all the Herbs seem sprouting—Harry this Day finished vulgar Fractions, & began Practice. Expence to day as Pin-Money a Bit or 7½ d
Once more the weather fine—Last night by some accident, the Main Spring of my Watch either unhook'd or broke, for when I thought She had run down, & trying to wind her, I found the Chain made no Resistance As there is no oppertunity here of having her refitted, I seem in considerable difficulty—In Spite of all my strongest opposing efforts, my thoughts dwell on that Vixen Laura. I strive to refuse them admission, or harbour them in my heart, yet like hidden fire they introduce themselves, & seize; & overcome me when perhaps I am pursuing some amuseing or useful Study; on giving precepts & Directions to my little fair Seminary—At ten Mr Lane & Mr John Simpson call'd to see us—At twelve we had a pleasant walk in the Garden—Mr Carter, & Mrs Carter along—Mr Lane informs that he has by particular Request, in the Absence of the Parson, Read the funeral Service twice since he has been in the county, which is only a few Weeks—He sets off for home soon; Mr Carter says he is in Love, & I think it is with Miss Camel. I was introduced to Mr Simpson: He talks much; & often mentions his having been to England—They Dined with us; Toasts as usual. Evening I have the Tooth Ach.
Wednesday 23.
I was almost wholly deprived of Sleep last night with a pain in my Jaw & Teeth; which conti[n]ues this morning so bad I scarce know what, or how to do—Frail, & weak nature; how we are forever teas'd, & vexed with Anciety in our minds, or Pains & other distresses in our Bodies!—We dined at half after two—It is now seven in the Evening & I am about entering into bed, as the pain has entirely left me, that I may satisfy my Body for last nights loss of my usual rest, I leave Ben by the Fire, poring over a History of England, nodding Sometimes, however, & impatient of the distance of nine o-Clock.—