16 March 1772 – 22 March 1772

Yesterday, I went to see aunt Polly, & finding her going out, I spent the afternoon with aunt Hannah. While I was out, a snow storm overtook me. This being a fine sun shine (tho' cold) day I have been to writing school, & wrote two pieces, one I presented to aunt Deming, and the other I design for my Honor'd Papa, I hope he will approve of it. I sent a piece of my writing to you Hon'd Mamma last fall, which I hope you receiv'd. When my aunt Deming was a little girl my Grandmamma Sargent told her the following story viz. One Mr. Calf who had three times enjoy'd the Mayorality of the city of London, had after his decease, a monoment erected to his memory with the following inscription on it. Here lies buried the body of Sir Richard Calf, Thrice Lord Mayor of London. Honor, Honor, Honor. A drol gentleman passing by with a bit of chalk in his hand underwrote thus— O cruel death! more subtle than a Fox That would not let this Calf become an Ox, That he might browze among the briers & thorns And with his brethren wear, Horns. Horns. Horns. My aunt told me the foregoing some time since & today I ask'd her leave to insert it in my journal. My aunt gives her love to you & directs me to tell you that she tho't my piece of linnin would have made me a dozen of shifts but she could cut no more than ten out of it. There is some left, but not enough for another. Nine of them are finish'd wash'd & iron'd; & the other would have been long since done if my fingers had not been sore. My cousin Sally made three of them for me, but then I made two shirts & part of another for unkle to help her. I believe unless something remarkable should happen, such as a warm day, my mamma will consent that I dedicate a few of my next essays to papa. I think the second thing I said to aunt this morning was, that I intended to be very good all day. To make this out, "Next unto God, dear Parents I address Myself to you in humble Thankfulness, For all your Care & Charge on me bestow'd; The means of Learning unto me allow'd, Go on I pray, & let me still pursue Those Golden Arts the Vulgar never knew." Yr Dutifull Daughter Anna Green Winslow. The poetry I transcrib'd from my Copy Book.

Thursday last I spent at home, except a quarter of an hour between sunset and dark, I stepped over the way to Mr. Glover's with aunt. Yesterday I spent at Unkle Neddy's & stitched wristbands for aunt Polly. By the way, I must inform you, (pray dont let papa see this) that yesterday I put on No 1 of my new shifts, & indeed it is very comfortable. It is long since I had a shift to my back. I dont know if I ever had till now—It seem'd so strange too, to have any linen below my waist—I am going to dine at Mrs. Whitwell's to day, by invitation. I spent last evening at Mrs Rogers. Mr Hunt discoursed upon the doctrine of the Trinity—it was the second time that he spoke upon the subject at that place. I did not hear him the first time. His business last eveg was to prove the divinity of the Son, & holy Ghost, & their equality with the Father. My aunt Deming says, it is a grief to her, that I don't always write as well as I can, I can write pretily.

I din'd & spent the afternoon of Thursday last, at Mrs Whitwell's. Mrs Lathrop, & Mrs Carpenter din'd there also. The latter said she was formerly acquainted with mamma, ask'd how she did, & when I heard from her,—said, I look'd much like her. Madam Harris & Miss P. Vans were also of the company. While I was abroad the snow melted to such a degree, that my aunt was oblig'd to get Mr Soley's chaise to bring me home. Yesterday, we had by far the gratest storm of wind & snow that there has been this winter. It began to fall yesterday morning & continued falling till after our family were in bed. (P.M.) Mr. Hunt call'd in to visit us just after we rose from diner; he ask'd me, whether I had heard from my papa & mamma, since I wrote 'em. He was answer'd, no sir, it would be strange if I had, because I had been writing to 'em today, & indeed so I did every day. Aunt told him that his name went frequently into my journals together with broken & some times whole sentences of his sermons, conversations &c. He laugh'd & call'd me Newsmonger, & said I was a daily advertiser. He added, that he did not doubt but my journals afforded much entertainment & would be a future benefit &c. Here is a fine compliment for me mamma.