SATURDAY.
Arose at three, most painfullie. Dined well on true Lorne sausage. By and by I hear tis a day of music that awaits us and to this end my guide procures for our pleasure such lozenges as good Burger Danny lov'd. Then we are at it, up and away to dance and flail asunder. Our port of call is mann'd by some native of London, Andrew Weatherall, who leads all the gather'd company once more upon a most ferocious, merry jig. Tis fine sport indeed to pass this night in such good companie. To bed.