The morning was fine. I arose very early for the purpose of going up to meet some of my workmen who were to be here early to take my 271directions previously to my necessary absence. I might as well not have hurried myself for they did not come until after breakfast and I was detained for an hour or two later. It happens unfortunately that perhaps the most critical part of all the work, the posts and fence in front, comes to be set just as I am to be absent. However, as this could not be avoided, I did the best I could and hurried off to drive to town with my father. We reached there at eleven and I was busy until one with various commissions.

At half past one, a stage called for us to go to Newburyport as we had arranged, but to our surprise we found we were to have no fellow passengers. We had a quick trip down through Lynn, Chelsea, Salem, Beverley, Wenham, Hamilton, Ipswich, Rowley but slightly incommoded by the rain. The Country did not strike me excepting for its barrenness and apparent poverty.

At Ipswich, we were met by Mr. Cushing and Mr. de Ford, the Chairman of the Committee of arrangements, who announced that my father would be met out of the town by a cavalcade of citizens and they would escort him in a carriage. This was accordingly done at a place called Old Town. My father got out upon the green, where Mr. de Ford made him an Address to which he made a suitable reply and then the procession started for the town. I followed in the rear with Mr. Cushing in the Stage.

A vast number of men, women and children were poured out from the avenues to the town and accompanied the procession. There was something so perfectly voluntary so enthusiastic and yet so little pretending in the reception that I could not help feeling less averse to it than I otherwise should have been. As it was I was glad to reach Mr. Cushing’s where we were to remain. There was much company there, particularly Miss Gould the poetess of the place and some of Mr. Cushing’s connexions as visitors.