Winter having kept off so long again comes down upon us with great force. The earth was covered with snow upon our rising in the morning, and it continued to fall the greater part of the day. I attended Divine Service this morning and heard a Mr. Malcolm, a Baptist Clergyman,1 preach at Mr. Frothingham’s. This rather surprised me, for such a degree of liberality is not usual, but upon hearing his Sermon against spiritual pride, or the pride of virtue, I was very much pleased. His manner strikes me as in many respects superior to any Clergyman’s I have heard in Boston, and had it a little more impressiveness and grace would be calculated to strike very much generally. Any thing is better than tameness and his manner at times is decidedly eloquent.

It was so inclement, that I did not venture out in the afternoon, so that I employed my time in finishing and copying my letter to my Father,2 which engrossed the whole time. This business takes up a good deal of valuable time and perhaps not so usefully as could be, for my letters do not improve.

Evening at home very quietly reading Evelina to my Wife, which I finished. This reading hardly pays one for the time. Continued my Catalogue afterwards which is now drawing to a close and read two Numbers of the Tatler.