The day looked dark and occasionally low’ring. It rained a little but finally cleared away. We made ready for our departure and accordingly shortly after breakfast the Stage called and took us in. We found Mr. Brooks and Mr. Davis together with all the other places but our’s occupied. Our ride was a pleasant one through Hingham, Scituate, Hanover, Marshfield, Duxbury and Kingston to Plymouth. It cleared off as we arrived, at the house kept by Mrs. Nicholson to dinner. A neat but old place near the Court house. Mrs. Nicholson is the Mother of Mrs. Edward Miller of Quincy and has acquired property enough to retire from the business of a common Inn to that of a boarding house.

We dined and in the afternoon were visited by several of the Plymouth gentlemen who accompanied us round the town. We went to their building for their Meetings as a Society of Antiquaries, saw the fragment of the Rock upon which the first of the Pilgrims is supposed to have stepped, which is now inclosed by a fine iron railing in the middle of the town where it has been moved. We then went to the burying ground where but few of the most ancient stones remain, then to the Court House where we saw the records of the first Settlers.

Plymouth is a somewhat flourishing town even at this day, but its principal pride is in its historical recollections.1 As the place upon which a few pious conscientious men founded a State which with all it’s deviations yet bears much of the primitive stamp, it will ever be memorable. To think of landing here on the 22d of December without a shelter and three thousand miles from what once was a beloved home. The idea as I stood upon the burying place which is high and overlooks the harbour made me shiver. Yet even I could do as much with a sufficient motive.

Home. Evening, a variety of visits.2 Judge Russell and two sons, two Messrs. Davis, nephews of our companion and Dr. Thacher.