I had intended to remain quietly at home all day but a notification of a draught upon my father from New York made it necessary for me to go to town.1 I did the business and passed the rest of my time in writing. Nothing of any particular consequence occurred and I returned to dinner.

Afternoon occupied in work upon books which progressed faster than I expected. We looked out for my Mother and she finally came, but much later than we had anticipated. She looks thin and feeble. I was glad she was through the Journey safely. She came, attended by only one woman, her former Servants having all left her. There are some advantages in clearing the House of a few dependents although the inconvenience of it may be momentarily felt.

Evening, Conversation. I think my Mother’s spirits are somewhat better than I had been led to suppose. Read the Connoisseur.