Try to do it well, but do not undertake too much. Write facts such as
what you saw, heard, did, and failed to do; but do not try to write
poetry or fine writing of any kind. Mention what kind of weather; but do
not attempt a meteorological record unless you have a special liking for
that science. If you camp in Jacob Sawyer's pasture, and he gives you a
quart of milk, say so, instead of "a good old man showed us a favor;"
for in after-years the memory of it will be sweeter than the milk was,
and it will puzzle you to recall the "good old man's" name and what the
favor was. If you have time, try to draw: never mind if it is a poor
picture. I have some of the strangest-looking portraits and most
surprising perspectives in my diaries written when fifteen to twenty
years old; but I would not exchange them now for one of the "old
masters." Do not neglect the narrative, however, for sake of drawing.

I have noticed that when my paper is down in the bottom of a valise, and
the pen in a wallet, and the penholder in a coat-pocket, and portfolio
somewhere else, it is not so easy to "find time to write" as when I have
penholder, pen, and paper in the portfolio, and the portfolio and ink in
my haversack. Under these favorable conditions it is easy to snatch a
few moments from any halt; and a diary written on the spur of the moment
is a diary that will be worth reading in after-life. If it is
impossible, however, as it so often is, to write oftener than once a
day, you will do well to make a note of events as fast as they happen,
so that you shall not forget them, nor have to stop to recall them when
your time is precious.

I have heard of diaries with side-notes on each page, and even an index
at the end of the book; but not many men, and but few boys, can do all
this; and my advice to the average boy is, not to undertake it, nor any
thing else that will use the time, patience, and perseverance, needed to