Wrote to my Mother before breakfast.1 I then went to see Abby at Mrs. Frothingham’s, and spent the longer part of the morning with her. Returned to the Office and conversed with George. Dined at Dr. Gorham’s. I was compelled unwillingly to this, as Abby being there, I knew they did not want me, yet would think it extraordinary that after being invited I should decline. Mrs. Gorham is a woman very little to my taste. Her Sister, Harriet Warren, was there also.2 I am not partial to any of the Warrens. The name is synonimous with coldness of heart. I remained until five o’clock when my walk takes place. Went to George’s Office on my return and became engaged in a serious conversation with him. He is very much in danger of a relapse. And I talked with him in the most unequivocal manner. This year, as I have always said, is the crisis of his fate. The remainder of the evening at Dr. Gorham’s. Home at ten.