We dined on the remains of yesterday’s dinner. At home all day, and but little to do. Joseph Fuller Jr and Mr Thornton smoked a pipe with me in the evening. Oh how pleasant has this Christmas been kept as yet, no revelling nor tumultuous meetings where there too often is little else but light and trifling discourse, no ways calculated for improvement; and it’s well if it’s not intermixed with some obscene talk and too often with vile and execrable oaths. Not that I am anyways an enemy to innocent mirth, but what I protest against is that which is not so.