January 2nd. Papa has just given me such a splendid set of furs, I never saw anything so beautiful. I do believe they must have cost three hundred pounds. I must make a note of it, but I shall never be a good diarist, my last entry I see was a month ago. Oh dear whenever shall I reduce this giddy head of mine to something like order. It was old Mr., I mean the very reverend, at least I’m not sure about his title but he is canon or something at the Cathedral who persuaded me to begin keeping a diary — he said it would help me to classify my ideas, and bring my mind into shape. Of course he put it in much grander words than that.
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