1771. Wednesday, January 2. -- I preached in the evening, at Deptford, a kind of funeral sermon for Mr. Whitefield. In every place I wish to show all possible respect to the memory of that great and good man.

Wednesday, 23. -- For what cause I know not to this day, -- -[Wesley's wife] set out for Newcastle, purposing "never to return." Non cam reliqui: non dimisi: non revocabo -- [l did not desert her: I did not send her away: I will not recall her.]

Friday, 25. -- I revised and transcribed my will, declaring as simply, as plainly, and as briefly as I could, nothing more nor nothing else, but "what I would have done with the worldly goods which I leave behind me."

Thursday, Feb.14. -- l went through both the upper and lower rooms of the London workhouse. It contains about a hundred children, who are in as good order as any private family. And the whole house is as clean, from top to bottom, as any gentleman's needs be. And why is not every workhouse in London, yea, through the kingdom, in the same order? Purely for want either of sense, or of honesty and activity, in them that superintend it.

Monday, 25. -- I showed a friend, coming out of the country, the tombs in Westminster Abbey. The two with which I still think none of the others worthy to be compared are that of Mrs. Nightingale, and that of the Admiral rising out of his tomb at the resurrection. But the vile flattery inscribed on many of them reminded me of that just reflection:

If on the sculptured marble you rely,

Pity that worth like his should ever die.

If credit to the real life you give,

Pity a wretch like him should ever live!