Mild morning, but it clouded up to rain in the latter part of the day. I went into Boston with Mr. Brooks. Morning passed rather indolently. I was obliged to go and make several commissions which led me down to the Athenaeum. There I was fascinated with another number of Jacob Faithful and remained some time.

Then back to the Office where Thomas B. Adams called to see me. His Mother accompanies him to stop at Mr. DeWint’s at Fishkill for a short time.1 Thus that family is at last utterly scattered. The vicissitudes of this world are wonderful. My Grandfather who collected around him in 1817 as many descendants as fall to the lot of most persons, is gone and this winter the scene of his residence will probably not be marked by the tread of a single one of them.

Home to Medford. Afternoon German, but interrupted by the visit of Mr. Henderson Inches, his two sisters2 and daughter. These are pleasant people who have seen something of the world and accommodated themselves to it easily. Perhaps above the common average of women and apparently inclined to remain single from a fancy for independence. A rare thing in this Country. Evening alone at home. Read Ovid but with less pleasure than usual. I did not feel quite well today.