Fine clear morning though much cooler than it has been for some days back. As this was the usual day of festival, I remained quietly at home. Last year, we had a day of great heat and noise, which for my own part I must confess I do not relish, as I did this today.

Occupied all the morning upon my Article which I at length finished. Took half an hour to go up and see my Tenants at Penn’s hill to whom I presented my bills but got no money from them. At any rate this part of my duty is done. Returned and got the intelligence of the appearance of the Cholera in New York.1 This will renew the 324Alarm here, although that has already been so pressed that man’s nature generally re-acts into confidence. My Mother has been for some days in a state of great and distressing anxiety on account of my brother’s child, Mary Louisa, whose disorders seem to have settled in her eyes, and produce excessive suffering. Indeed the whole house experiences the consequence, particularly at night.

Afternoon, I read a good deal of Seneca’s Consolation to Marcia. His pictures are too laboured. He dwells on what he thinks a striking thought until he has gone into every detail, and in fact wears it entirely out. Evening quiet. Elizabeth C. Adams was here at tea, and my wife and I accompanied her in her walk home.