Morning warm. I went to town. Morning consumed in making up the Arrears of my Diary and in arranging my Accounts. My frequent absences from town make my time when there more in request. I was also engaged in several Commissions for the family.

A residence at Quincy is vastly a more anxious one to me than one at Medford. The want of responsibility at the former place by which a great many things go on neglected or ill attended to, the desire to correct met by the difficulty of doing any thing that is not radical altogether make a very unpleasant state of feeling to me. Yet as an exercise of the intellect Quincy has corresponding advantages. My father’s society is worth that of a hundred common minds.

Back to dinner. Afternoon, continuing the Letters of which I have collected all immediately within reach. Read also a little of Ovid. Evening, Whist.