Arose very early this morning for the purpose of going by invitation with my father to Hingham on a fishing party. My impression was that 290we were to go down in a sloop but it turned out after reaching Mr. Loring’s that we were to go over to Cohasset. My father accompanied Mr. Loring, and Mr. Quincy Thaxter went with me.

We went down to Mrs. Nichols’, a place a mile or two beyond the house where I formerly stopped when here seven years ago. There we were joined by about twenty of the people of Hingham. A portion went out in boats and a part fished from the rocks. I was of the former number and did very well. The day was overcast with a fine breeze from the land and warm enough to make the sea air relish. But in the afternoon we had a severe thunder shower after we were housed. The house is a very poor one and the country is desolate enough. The Cohasset rocks form one of the most dangerous points upon our coast, in winter time. But there is something rather interesting at all times in the sight of the sea, and perhaps the sight of the effects it produces upon its coast is an addition to the idea of power and consequently of grandeur.1

We had a fish dinner from our own sport and were detained some time by the rain which was the stupidest part of the day. Mr. Brooks and Mr. Richardson Clergymen of Hingham were of the party, as also Mr. Solomon Lincoln and others. I was not struck so much with the intelligence as with the good disposition of the individuals who did every thing they could to make it pleasant.

On returning to Hingham, we went to Mr. Loring’s house where we had tea and met with a number of the ladies as well as gentlemen, after which we returned home by a clear moon, having had a far less fatiguing day than I have usually experienced.