About 9 o’clock my wife, self and nephew set out upon a horse borrowed of Francis Smith to see Mr Hill of Little Horsted, where we arrived about 10:30 and found ourselves disappointed of going to church as we had proposed, my uncle already gone to church. We dined at my uncle’s, in company with my mother and brother (who came to Horsted Church and so came home with my uncle) on a leg of very ordinary: ewe mutton half boiled, very good turnips, but spoiled by almost swimming in butter, a fine large pig roasted, and the rind as tough as any cowhide (it seemed as if it had been basted with a mixture of flour, butter and ashes), and sauce which looked like what is vomited up by sucking children, a butter pond pudding, and that justly called, for there was almost but enough in it to have drowned the pig, had it been alive.
After dinner my uncle and my mother balanced their accounts and I wrote a promissory note which my uncle signed for the balance, which I think was 16.11.5¾, and made payable to my mother or bearer on demand. We stayed and drank tea and all came away together, my mother and brother parting with us at Highcross. We came home just at 7 o’clock and, considering the house I had been at, sober, though it may with justice be said I was the worse for drinking. We spent 14d as under:
|myself to the boy||0.0.6|
|my wife to the maid||0.0.6|
…Borrowed of my brother Will the Apology for the Life of Bampfylde Moore Carew…