As usual, lovely day. After evening service, Mr and Mrs Smith & I met the lads & Young men of the place, & discussed the rifle club. I was wondering all the time to say that none who are over 19 ought to belong, but kept silence yea even from good words.

There was that great hulking fellow George Wevill, with no home ties, working independently, he ought to enlist. But he is one of these fellows that talk. When I think how they all stood up at our last concert & sang Hearts of Oak, & now prove that their hearts are of putty. One cannot help despising them. In the morning Father preached a fine sermon on “Who is my neighbour.” Very high ideals, but terribly hard to follow.