Wrote to my father this morning and went to the Office, passed the morning in reading Blackstone. Commenced Edwards’ History of the West Indies in the afternoon. The day was fine and my spirits tolerably good. Took a walk in the evening and fancied myself sick which I always do when I have not occupation sufficiently engrossing. I thought much of consumption. Evening at home, occupied as usual.

Greek Philosophy in the morning. Then at the Office reading Blackstone. Wrote a Note to Abby,1 as it is decided that I shall not see Medford this week. Hitherto it has not been dull to me. But my spirits are very variable. Conversation with George. He seems always getting into trouble. Had he been what he ought, my labour would have been saved, and my feelings quieted. Afternoon, Edwards’ History. My usual walk, part of the way with Mr. Charles Paine, a student at law.2 Evening at home, reading Cicero, George came in and sat a few minutes, conversation of little or no moment. We mutually avoid unpleasant subjects. Executive Record kept me later than usual. Spirits were tolerable.

Reading as usual. Then at the Office reading Blackstone. Nothing remarkable occurred. My life is quite monotonous again, but I never was gaining knowledge so rapidly. My mind has sensibly developed since my coming to Boston and the solidity which I obtain is manifest to myself. Afternoon, Edwards. Instead of a walk conversed with George when as usual we fell into an argument. Evening at home. Cicero and Executive Record.

Finished the Pythagorean Philosophy this morning. Office, Blackstone. The day was remarkably beautiful. Passed the day in my regular occupations and neither heard nor saw any thing notable. Walk with T. Davis in the evening and general conversation. Evening, Cicero and Record.

Wrote a letter to my Mother this morning.1 At the Office. Black-225stone. George received letters from both my Parents expecting him at Washington.2 He will probably go this week ensuing. My mother is also anxious to have me go, but I have a great indifference to it, and independently of that I don’t think I can leave Abby. Took a warm bath this morning for the first time this winter. After dinner, read as usual, took a walk with E. H. Derby3 and passed the evening in my usual avocations having thus finished decidedly the most industrious week of my residence in Boston.