Wednesday, 28. -- I sat down to read and seriously consider some of the writing of Baron Swedenborg. I began with huge prejudice in his favor, knowing him to be a pious man, one of a strong understanding, of much learning, and one who thoroughly believed himself. But I could not hold out long. Any one of his visions puts his real character out of doubt. He is one of the most ingenious, lively, entertaining madmen that ever set pen to paper. But his waking dreams are so wild, so far remote both from Scripture and common sense, that one might as easily swallow the stories of "Tom Thumb," or "Jack the Giant-Killer."

Monday, March 5. -- l came to Newbury, where I had been much importuned to preach. But where? The Dissenters would not permit me to preach in their meeting-house. Some were then desirous to hire the old playhouse, but the good mayor would not suffer it to be so profaned! So I made use of a workshop -- a large, commodious place. But it would by no means contain the congregation. All that could hear behaved well, and I was in hopes God would have a people in this place also. The next evening I preached at Bristol, and spent the rest of the week there.