Morning still cloudy and threatening. Mr. Frothingham accompanied me to town and I went to the Office as usual. Received a Note from Quincy by Joseph Adams stating the fact of Mary’s having been delivered last night of a daughter.1 This is well so far as safety and health go, but it is rather to be regretted on other accounts. It has now become doubtful whether I shall be blessed with any Children. I feel very far from sanguine about it, and it therefore is rather to be wished that some of John’s Progeny should be male—If not, what becomes of the family which we love to cherish. Perhaps this is a part of fate. I know not but with a very good end, for it would be better that it should cease than degenerate to become a proverb.

I had all sorts of interruptions and did very little. Half an hour spent in Accounts, as much in Commissions, with a visit from my friend Mr. T. Davis and one from my Carpenter Mr. Champney consumed the time. The former chatted an hour pleasantly as usual, the latter gave me notice that his Mother intended leaving me. Another of the Tenements empty, and my arrangements for Work discomposed. Returned to Medford to dinner. Afternoon passed in reading Rollin, partly in seeing Visitors. Mr. Alfred Brooks, son of Jonathan, and his brother S. R. B., heretofore a merchant in Manchester but unfortunate in business who has returned to see his friends.2 Others with them. In the evening I read and reviewed the first book of Rollin upon the study of Languages.