Lovely day. At home.

This was a most remarkable day for the season. Soft as the month of June. I was occupied most of my morning in superintending the transplanting of trees which I am doing to a great extent in consequence of my father’s being about to clear his garden of all his seedlings. I shall fill my border and then have no where else to put them.

Afternoon, Menzel but pursued without much vigour. Evening at the Mansion. I felt a little depressed this evening I know not exactly for what reason. But I have not felt entirely well myself and the children are now and then ailing which at this season makes me anxious.