Passed an hour with Abby previous to my return to town, pleasantly enough. The day was fair and I came in pretty rapidly. Morning at the Office, writing a letter to my Aunt Smith in reply to one received from her on Saturday.1 Afternoon, engaged in reading Adam Smith but my attention was not fixed to it. So that I gained little. In the evening, Mirabeau, Cour de Berlin, not interesting at all. I felt heavy, and apathetical, if there is such a word. I suspect, a little bilious, for this was my condition last Spring.