The morning was clear and cool. On the whole the month of May this year has been far from pleasant. The East Winds have prevailed very much and checked the warmth which we enjoyed in April. Left Medford immediately after breakfast alone, as my Wife was to go with Mrs. Everett to her house in Charlestown to spend the morning. Found at home a short letter from my Father announcing his probable arrival for tomorrow, and a short Note from my Mother, as I expected full of disappointment.1 I felt a degree of pain, but knowing that it would be folly in me to run any risk, my resolution was not changed. Never was there a measure of this kind upon which my mind was more clear.

Went to the Office, and after ascertaining that Whitney’s Note was paid, and returning my Affidavit of Notice of Administration to the Probate Office, I sat down and read Mitford with my usual indignation. An abominable book. Afternoon, finished the first Volume of Prior’s Life of Burke, and looked into Milton. My reading of the Poets has slacked so much that I find I must refresh. Evening reading Eustace to my Wife, and afterwards, examining the Oxford Elements of Logic.2