[The remainder of the diary, chiefly detailing morbid religious introspection, is not of sufficient interest to include.] _Notes from Memorandum-book_ _March._—A dinner for fifteen poor children, 11_s._ 10_d._[190] Another dinner for thirty-seven children, 16_s._ 6_d._ Another dinner for forty-seven children, 1_l._ 6_s._ 6_d._ _April._—This month seven dinners to about forty-eight children each time. _May._—Four dinners to about forty-eight children each time. This year I sold the copyright of my ‘Travels’ for 250 guineas. _April 1799._—In London. I am alone, therefore at peace. I rise at four or five o’clock and go to bed at nine to ten P.M. I have no pleasures, and wish for none, saving that comfort which religion gives me; and the sooner I make it my only pleasure the wiser I shall be. I go to no amusements, and read some Scripture every day; never lay aside my good books but for business. I have dined out but little, and wish for no more than I have. I get into habits of reading and writing, and don’t like to quit them; privacy, and silence, and retirement suit me, and I am content. New servants, all; and the cook, a two-handed Yahoo, and cannot boil a potato. No matter, I am passed being troubled at such things, but I like old servants, and can’t bear this change. May 4 of this year I went to the opera with Mrs. Oakes;[191] and that amusement which had for so many years been my delight, I met so coldly as to be almost asleep through much of the performance. What a change had taken place in my mind! This was the last public diversion at which I have been present. I thank the Father of mercies that I have yet retained my attention to religion, that I have read few books but those of devotion, that I live very retired without any regret, that I rise at four or five o’clock, and never omit my private devotions, morn and eve, and but rarely family prayer. Thank the Almighty goodness I have almost weaned myself from the world. _June 4._—The King’s birthday. I have been in Kensington Gardens to see the King review 8,000 volunteers of London and Westminster. These corps owe their origin I may, without presumption, say to me, and I should in a former part of my life have been full of mortification and envy at the gay and brilliant situation of others, whilst I was a humble spectator lost in the crowd, ‘the mob’ as I should once have called them; but, thank God, I had no such ideas, and am more free from sin of such thoughts than I am from that of entering this note of it. My mind was much occupied in thinking of such multitudes of people of all ranks, all ages, from infancy to decrepitude, gay, lively, and running at the tilt of pleasure, followed by more splendid scenes of courts, balls, dinners and all, all to be in a few years in their graves, their souls in their eternal doom, thoughtless as they may now be.