Morning at Quincy, instead of rain as we expected, we found a warm sun and a summer’s day. My mother seemed a little better, but so many strange ways seem to have crept into the House that I feel no longer at home. We waited as usual when my father is in the case, pretty long before we could start for Boston. He had agreed to go and dine with us, so that my Wife accompanied us, and Abby Adams. We did not reach Boston until eleven, when I was hurried all the rest of the time. Went with my father to my Office, where we executed certain papers for the Estate of W. N. Boylston, Mr. Curtis and Mrs. Boylston being there for the purpose.1 This over, a few Commissions, a visit to Mr. Brooks and my Journal took up the rest of my time, until dinner. My father, Miss Abby Adams and Miss Julia Gorham dined with us. The first was made heavy and sleepy by the weather so that we had little Conversation. At five we returned to Quincy, and I rarely recollect suffering more than we did during our ride—The heat being intense and the Carriage shut close. I was glad to be freed from this restraint, and to breathe a fresher air. The Evening was passed in the Portico,2 in the first thing like a Conversation which we have been able to carry on, and this was mostly upon Political matters which do not materially interest me.