1748 December 3 (Saturday). Tis now a very alter’d Air. Cold and Windy. Molly and Lucy rode together and Bekky Gott rode with me to the Funeral of Mrs. Brigham. This is now the Ninth Death that has been in this Parish of Late. May God make me sensible of my own Frailty and Mortality! My Thoughts have been of late greatly discompos’d, and I don’t know that I have ever felt so inwardly sunk and disheartened and unable to sustain my Infirmity. What has brought me into this has been my inability to do for my Children, when they come to be of age. My son Ebenezer in particular. All my schemes and Designs respecting him fall to the Ground. He has chose to be a Farmer, but I have not a Farm to give him that is handy or desirable (No other than that at Townshend). Nor has he strength of Body to drudge and bring to a place. My Family is so large as to need what I have at home and more too. But I beg grace to enable me to cast my Care upon God who Careth for us.