Very ill to-day and very unhappy. My three children are all unwell. Had a dismal dream of being in hell: this is the third time I have had such a dream. As I am more than ever convinced that I cannot recover I will make a memorandum of my temporal concerns, for next to the spiritual they ought to be attended to for the sake of those left behind. I will insert them in No. 5 in the Appendix. October 9.-- Patty has been to Stamford, and brought me a letter from Ned Drury, who came from Lincoln to the mayor's feast on Thursday. It revives old recollections. Poor fellow: he is an odd one, but still my recollections are inclined in his favour. What a long way to come to the mayor's feast! I would not go one mile after it to hear the din of knives and forks, and to see a throng of blank faces about me, chattering and stuffing, "that boast no more expression than a muffin." October 12.-- Began to teach a poor lame boy the common rules of arithmetic, and find him very apt and willing to learn. October 16.-- Wrote two more pages of my life: find it not so easy as I at first imagined, as I am anxious to give an undisguised narrative of facts, good and bad. In the last sketch which I wrote for Taylor I had little vanities about me to gloss over failings which I shall now take care to lay bare, and readers, if they ever are published, to comment upon as they please. In my last four years I shall give my likes and dislikes of friends and acquaintances as free as I do of myself. 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. March 9.--