A letter came from George today complaining of an accident which he met with and whining about his general health as an excuse for neglect of writing. This put Madame into a fit of tears and it was not till evening that I discovered she had determined to go on to Boston alone. I was not asked my opinion and did not give any although I certainly had one. Nor could I analyze my mother’s motives for her course. But I certainly felt most prodigiously provoked by George and his nonsense.1 In the evening we had a numerous Company here. It was exceedingly warm and we felt in little disposition to be agreeable. But the evening passed off and we retired in hopes Madame would change her mind.