I did not go to town this morning but remained and in the morning took a bath in salt water with my father, John and Thomas. I then amused myself with reading the history of Navigation as prefixed to an old collection of voyages, and afterward some passages from a volume of Voltaire. Desiring to finish all conversation with my father, I resumed the subject. I will not detail the conversation here as perhaps it may lead to nothing, but it is very certain that my feelings were cruelly hurt, and in a manner which no subsequent kindness can remedy.1 My afternoon was spent in great pain of mind and in reflection upon what it was proper to do under the state of circumstances. I wrote a letter to my Mother to divert my thoughts,2 which succeeded but poorly, and in the evening with the family.