I dined at Mr. C. B. Wadström's with a great deal of company. In the evening I went to the play,1 which can indeed hardly be call'd a play. However, it is as much as this small town can allow. After the play I return'd to Mr. Wadström's where
In the margin is a small pencil sketch of two figures standing before a backdrop.
Laid in between pages two and three of the Diary is the following four-line poem, written presumably in Wadström's hand:
Monsieur et chèr Ami !
le 7me. Janvier 1783