Morning pleasant. I was roused in the night by my Wife who felt herself sick, but I went to sleep again and did not get up again until 1/2 past six. Read part of Vida’s Art of Poetry which I had commenced yesterday, and went to the Office where I was again occupied in writing a Bible letter all day. They are worth the trouble I take with them, but they allow me time for little else.

I returned home and found that my Wife was in labour. This terminated at a little after three o’clock in the birth of a daughter, and the Mother and Child both tolerably well. Thus am I at last a Parent. A new relation in life is fixed upon me of which I hope I understand the importance. When I look back upon past time, my Engagement, my marriage and the fears and hopes which possessed me, and which were spread throughout my writing whether in this Journal or in my letters, I cannot restrain a loud cry of gratitude to God for the very merciful manner in which he has heard my Prayers. In my record of the 10th of September of last year I expressed my doubts of ever being blessed with Children. This is now removed, and my feelings are now perfectly at ease. But it is now that I have still greater need of divine protection, as the responsibilities which I assumed begin to make themselves felt. May the Deity look with favour 111upon my virtuous efforts, and support me through all days of suffering and trial. My heart was relieved upon being told my Wife was safely through, most incredibly. My Mother did not arrive until six o’clock.

Evening quiet though I could do little or nothing.1 Read the Spectator and took possession of my lonely bed.