The day was cloudy with passing showers. I went to town in my own way. Time somewhat taken up with commissions after which I sat down and made up the record of my Diary which has been going backward this week—An inconvenience attending my absences from town. This and accounts took up my day. Returned in a shower. P. C. Brooks Jr. came out with his father. After dinner read Walpole, and Ovid.

My Wife this day received a letter from my Mother stating the probability that my brother and his family would in all probability come with her and spend the remainder of the Summer at Quincy.1 She hints at losses of property and at our taking a separate house in case I should conclude to go to Washington next Winter. I am afraid things there are in a condition such as for a long time I have anticipated. The worst of it is that there is no remedy to that disease. A good pruning knife would have done the business long ago. The consequence of this immediate step seems to be probably to fix my family where it now is for the Summer.