On Saturday, my Mother arrived dispirited and unwell. My representations had been slighted but the consequences which they foretold had come to pass. I felt melancholy upon the subject, and indeed, now when I recur to the question of family, a creeping dread comes over me and I see distinctly as I think, that the word has lost it’s force to me already in this life. I feel that I am to be an insulated being and that all the social affections which have been so foolishly drawn out for the last three years are to wither soon and forever. But this is all useless complaint, it may not be so, and the prediction of evil is nonsensical trifling.