Clear and cool. To town. Afternoon company. Evening at the Mansion.

My daughter Louisa is eight years old this day. As she grows, she becomes the subject of greater hopes and anxieties. I see in her the germ of much that is good and the prospect of weeds that must be skilfully eradicated or they will prevent a crop. Heaven prosper my endeavors.

I went to town and was busily engaged in my affairs which worry me a little at present.

Home. After dinner, only three or four sections of Tacitus before Edward Brooks and his Wife came to take tea. Of course, nothing more. Evening at the Mansion.