A warm day but a very windy one. I read Vasari as usual and went to the Office. Nothing material took place. As it was the period for 294returning books to the Athenaeum, I went and amused myself an hour by reading an article in the Quarterly Review upon the state of America as contrasted with England. The subject of it is a book written lately by a certain Mrs. Trollop who has done much to justify her name.1 There is notwithstanding all the abuse a foundation of Justice in her remarks. We are not a perfect nation very certainly, but this is not the question. It is whether on the whole Man is not in as advantageous a situation in the United States as any where on the globe. That is, whether the aggregate of human happiness is not greater and that of misery less. I did not do much of any thing else.

Afternoon. Passed an hour in reading Sismondi and then drove out in the Country with my Wife. We returned at six o’clock and at seven went down to Mrs. Frothingham’s to spend the evening. She leaves town tomorrow for Medford to spend the summer. We had a pleasant time and returned home before ten. I felt sleepy however, so that I read only the Rambler and a little of Paley.