1760. Novr. 21st. Friday.
This day has been spent to little Purpose. I must confine my Body, or I never shall confine my Tho’ts. Running to Drs., cutting Wood, blowing fires, cutting Tobacco, waste my Time, scatter my Thoughts, and divert my Ambition. A Train of Thought, is hard to procure. Trifles light as Air, break the Chain, interrupt the series.