Morning was cold. I started shortly after breakfast, to go to Weston. My fingers ached and I otherwise began to experience in a good degree the approach of Winter. I went through Roxbury, Brookline and Brighton, and could not help noticing the great advances that are making in building and apparent prosperity throughout. This portion of the Country is now in an exceedingly flourishing condition. There is wealth and substantial independence to be seen in almost every direction. But it is by no means so stable, as it is great. The present aspect of public affairs portends changes which cannot fail to jeopardize all our success.

Reached Weston in about three hours and was disappointed in finding that Conant, the Tenant, had gone into town for the purpose of seeing me. Thus after four or five months of waiting, we each hit upon the same day to go in quest of each other. I remained but a short time and then made the best of my way home to Quincy where I arrived shortly after three. The distance is not less than forty miles.1 I was chilled, and it took me all the afternoon to recover my natural state. Read Lingard.