My daily habits are nearly restored. I attempt no kind of reading as yet because I am not to remain at home1 but I write perhaps more than usual. I have still arrears of Agency matters. A quarterly Account to render, and rents to collect. Mr. Chapman also keeps me in a little hot water. He has tricked me out of half a quarter’s rent and I have no other resource than to give him a proper sense of his conduct. To this end I have written at first rather mildly but not without strong intimations of my opinions. If there is any thing annoying in the world it is quarrels with people about money. It produces a kind of nervous vexation which is more disturbing than the money is worth.

I turn from all this to recollect the Journey with the more pleasure. Then at least I had no cares of that kind. Much of my morning as well as of the afternoon spent in making up the arrears of my Diary. Nothing but active effort will do it. I had leisure until late in the evening, which I did not all turn to account, preferring some relaxation with the Letters of Madame de Sevigné.2 Went to Gorham Brooks’, where were Mr. and Mrs. Frothingham and my Wife. Talk about Canada and then home. Nothing of any particular interest going on.