I find after having written many diaries of many forms, that I have now to regret I did not at first choose some particular size, say “letter-size,” and so have had all my diaries uniform.  I will never again use “onion-skin,” which is too thin, nor any odd-shaped, figured, cheap, or colored paper.  I do not like those large printed diaries which give you just a page or half-page a day, nor a paper whose ruling shows conspicuously.

I like best when at home to write in a blank book; and when I go off on a summer vacation I leave that diary safely at home, and take a portfolio with some sheets of blank paper upon which to write the diary, and mail them as fast as written.  These answer for letters to the friends at home, and save writing any more to them.  They also, when bound, form a diary exclusively of travels.  When I return I write an epitome in the home-diary, and thus prevent a break of dates in that book.  The paper for the diary of travels is strong, but rather thin and white.  I buy enough of it at once to make a volume, and thus have the diary sheets uniform.

I am quite sure that you will do well to write a diary of your summer vacation, upon the plan just named, whether you keep one at home or not.  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 write the narrative.