The wind changed and the weather which had been hazy became at last pretty clear. The Sun showed himself to us again and animated the scene which has so long been dark. I went to the Office as usual and after the usual duties, had just set myself down to study my German when my Father came in from Quincy. He sat at my Office all the morning and my occupations were entirely prevented by Mr. Curtis and Mr. Degrand who came in one after the other and consumed all the period. I was sorry to hear that my Mother was not well, but at the same time was glad to find that she had decided to go to Washington. This was produced by a letter from John which I had sent for, but which I fear was not precisely in the tone that I admire.1 My father dined with me and consumed so much of the afternoon that I did not think it worthwhile to go upon Cicero this afternoon and spent it upon my Catalogue which I should wish could progress a great deal more than it does.

My day was on the whole a poorly spent one, and my mind always assumes a load of care when I think of my Parents. Their situation is a painful one, and it is always a hard thing for a Child to feel a doubt about the sound Judgment of either. But I see no way to avoid it. For I always find them in some species of embarrassment, and I do not often agree with their plans.

Evening, I read a little of Corinne with my Wife and a part of Crabbe’s Tales which I never opened before.2 They are not very astonishing. Part of the sixth Book of Paradise Lost with the review of the fifth and the Tatler.