Morning clear. I went to Boston as usual and was occupied the greater part of the time in Accounts. Not having any book to read at the Office I must also accuse myself of negligence and Idleness. A thing I am compelled to do much more often than I could wish. Nothing of any consequence took place.

Returned to Quincy to dinner, and in the afternoon I was taken up in reading and assorting more of my Grandfather’s Papers. I now confine myself to the expectation of completing the Papers previous to 1790—A Task in itself not trifling.

I went to the Bath in the afternoon with I. Hull and Joseph Adams, which took up an hour. There had been little or no rain here when I had been caught on the road in a most violent shower. These rains have all been very partial in their character, but quite heavy where they have fallen.

A quiet evening at home. I read a good deal of the Cunningham Correspondence, and of the causes of Pickering’s anger, which go to show me very strongly how malignant and how unjust he was. My father seemed a little depressed by a swelling of his face. I finished Grimm’s fourth volume and two numbers of the Spectator.