This is the first day upon which we have felt any thing like pleasant weather. I accomplished a good deal of the Aeneid before going to the Office. But performed little more there than I usually do. Had a visit or two from Quincy people with whom I talked considerably. They let 277me into the state of feeling in the upper part of Quincy. These Country towns are shocking places for men reputed to possess property. If they do not allow themselves to be mangled and mauled to the satisfaction of every man who calls himself poor, the cry against him is that he is hard. My father in the mean time is sucked dry by a parcel of hangers on, who see how things go and wink at it all.

I went in the Afternoon to Quincy, saw the proceedings of the man who has gone there to work, examined the young trees in the Nursery, which I find very much injured by the field mice, and directed what was next to be done. Then went and gave the painter some directions about painting and to Mrs. Adams’ where after remaining a few minutes we returned to town. By we, I mean I. Hull and I, for he accompanied me.

Evening quietly at home, where I read the account of Eugene Aram and his trial in the Newgate Calendar.1 Afterwards Mr. Brooks came in and sat a little while. These expeditions to Quincy ought to be trifling and yet they are fatiguing. Read a little of Bonaparte and Paley.