Sunday, 20. -- About one I preached on West Bromwich heath; in the evening, near the preaching-house in Wednesbury. The north wind cut like a razor; but the congregation, and I as well, had something else to think of.

Tuesday, 22. -- I read over a small book, Poems, by Miss Whately, a farmer's daughter. She had little advantage from education, but an astonishing genius. Some of her elegies I think quite equal to Mr. Gray's. If she had had proper helps for a few years, I question whether she would not have excelled any female poet that ever yet appeared in England.

Wednesday, 30. -- l rode to a little town called New Mills, in the High Peak of Derbyshire. I preached at noon in their large new chapel, which (in consideration that preaching-houses have need of air) has a casement in every window, three inches square! That is the custom of the country!