and il n'a poynt
d'inclination a boire il ne luy fait jamais de bien.' I once begun to
tell him something of his condition, and asked him whither he thought he
should go. He in distracted manner answered me--"Why, whither should
I go? there are but two ways: If I go, to the bad way I must give God
thanks for it, and if I go the other way I must give God the more thanks
for it; and I hope I have not been so undutifull and unthankfull in my
life but I hope I shall go that way." This was all the sense, good or
bad, that I could get of him this day. I left my wife to see him laid
out, and I by coach home carrying my brother's papers, all I could find,
with me, and having wrote a letter to, my father telling him what hath
been said I returned by coach, it being very late, and dark, to my
brother's, but all being gone, the corpse laid out, and my wife at Mrs.
Turner's, I thither, and there after an hour's talk, we up to bed, my
wife and I in the little blue chamber, and I lay close to my wife, being
full of disorder and grief for my brother that I could not sleep nor
wake with satisfaction, at last I slept till 5 or 6 o'clock.

16th. And then I rose and up, leaving my wife in bed, and to my
brother's, where I set them on cleaning the house, and my wife coming
anon to look after things, I up and down to my cozen Stradwicke's and
uncle Fenner's about discoursing for the funeral, which I am resolved
to put off till Friday next. Thence home and trimmed myself, and then
to the 'Change, and told my uncle Wight of my brother's death, and so by
coach to my cozen Turner's and there dined very well, but my wife.... in
great pain we were forced to rise in some disorder, and in Mrs. Turner's
coach carried her home and put her to bed. Then back again with my cozen
Norton to Mrs. Turner's, and there staid a while talking with Dr. Pepys,
the puppy, whom I had no patience to hear. So I left them and to my
brother's to look after things, and saw the coffin brought; and by and
by Mrs. Holden came and saw him nailed up. Then came W. Joyce to me half
drunk, and much ado I had to tell him the story of my brother's being
found clear of what was said, but he would interrupt me by some idle
discourse or other, of his crying what a good man, and a good speaker
my brother was, and God knows what. At last weary of him I got him away,
and I to Mrs. Turner's, and there, though my heart is still heavy to
think of my poor brother, yet I could give way to my