It is very seldom now that I do not go to Boston, and it is exceedingly seldom that I find I improve my time in doing so. I had made an appointment this morning with the Carpenter to go and inspect Miss Oliver’s house for the purpose of making the repairs I contemplate. On examination, I find them greater than I expected. But the property has been neglected and it is a good investment to bring it up again. Having done with this business I was then obliged to go to the other side of the Common to see Mr. Kauffer my Painter and from thence to see the Clerk of the Boylston Market, so that it was nearly noon before I got home to the Office. Mr. Walsh then came in and talked until it was the hour for returning.

I have felt quite unwell for a day or two from too great indulgence in fruit. The temptation is rather powerful, but it becomes soon satiety. Afternoon a new German book of La Fontaine’s, Karl Engelmann’s Tage Buch, and the Preface to Ovid’s Metamorphoses.1 Quiet uninterrupted day and evening. A little of Mr. Bowring.