Fine weather. I went to town this morning. My ride was somewhat longer through the little green lane and over the Neck. I think this little place is one of the prettiest in the vicinity of Boston. It has the marks of extreme cultivation and the houses are both neat and ornamental. At the Office, but as John wished me to perform a Commission for him I thought I might as well do it today as any day. Accordingly I set off with Mr. Peabody, who has just returned to town, and we walked to Haggiston’s Greenhouse at Charlestown, a small inclosure sheltered by a hill in which he raises various kinds of fruit and flowers. I gave my directions about the Strawberry Vines and took some of the fruit as a specimen. Returned to town just in time after having had a pleasant time.

I went back to Quincy directly. Afterward, I read Seneca finishing the book of Consolation to Helvia. I did not go on but wrote a little upon my work. It progresses slowly and is not much bettered by these breaks. Quiet evening at home.