The Storm howled through the night, but the morning was fair and bright and Autumnlike. After a good deal of conversation with my Mother in which she appeared calm and reasonable, I thought it safe to leave her for the sake of going to town, and from thence to Medford to communicate this intelligence to my Wife.

In Boston, I passed the greater part of my time at my Office in reflection and in writing to my father.1 Upon this trying occasion, it seems as if an opportunity was presented for consideration. The family of my father must assume a new position and upon that position will depend very much it’s future happiness. Knowing as well as I do the particular characters of it’s members, I cannot say that I have any great hope in futurity. It seems to me as clear as fate makes any thing future that my father has not the energy necessary to do what is absolutely requisite. And yet he will not suffer any body else to have that complete control which will answer the purpose.

I went to Medford with Mr. Brooks. Enjoyed for the remainder of the day, the prodigious luxury of the company of my Wife and children—A comparative absence from care in my own family for which I feel particularly thankful at this time.