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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 [with?] all the company.2
1. In the margin is a small pencil sketch of two figures standing before a backdrop.
2. Laid in between pages two and three of the Diary is the following four-line poem,
written presumably in Wadström's hand: