Morning cloudy but became pleasant. My father and Mother left us this morning after breakfast, and I felt a sensation of loneliness at my home after they had gone which is somewhat new to me, and not very agreeable, neither does it forebode any good. My hopes have been sanguine for a year past, that if my domestic happiness was to be disappointed by the failure of children, I might at least have a substitute in the ardor for literary distinction, but my mind is easily discouraged and my avocations so divide me as to be fast destroying any hope I had to appropriate my time to any useful purpose.

Attended divine Service all day and heard Mr. Frothingham in the morning and Mr. Ripley in the Afternoon. Neither Sermon had any 337interest to me. My Wife remained at home all day excepting when she went to see Mrs. P. C. Brooks. I was occupied upon the Catalogue, which is drawing to a Close.

In the evening, Chardon came in to tell us his brother Gorham’s child was dead.1 Such a thing as this reconciles one to not having any, for I do pity with all my heart the person affected by a sudden blow of desolation. I have no ills in comparison with such as this.