The morning was cold but it became clear and thus our precautions of yesterday were disappointed. I went into town leaving my Mother pretty comfortable and arranging the progress of her Journey. I was occupied at the Office in my Accounts and in looking over the remainder of my brother George’s papers which require destruction.1 My time is exceedingly brief now as I cannot very conveniently get into town much before ten o’clock. Went to Medford. Afternoon with my children, but I accomplished some German.

The brightest year of my life is passing and I am sacrificing it to others. I am more wound up in the interest of merely domestic affairs than ever I was, and the bustle of the external world with all its turbulence and confusion appears to me only as through a glass darkly. I am now the only son of my father, the only representative in my generation of the distinguished branch of the name and I am vegetating in a useless hot-bed of enervating luxury. Doing less than ever and yet I trust not entirely useless.