Returned to town with Mr. Brooks. The morning was very fine and the ride pleasant. Found at the Office, a letter for me from my Mother the general tenor of which seemed to be delay. I regret this somewhat though I do not know whether my feeling is not selfish. That the leaving a place which has for so long been their home should affect them is natural enough. Remained at the Office, though my time was not passed as usefully as it should have been. Afternoon, read the lives of Christopher Wren and Edward Coke in the Numbers of the Library of Useful Knowledge.1 Evening, a walk and Pope’s Correspondence. Life at a Hotel is a dreary business. There is so much liveliness in a crowd, that I would prefer the constraint of a private family to the only advantage it possesses, independence.

The day commenced with clouds and a cold easterly wind which soon brought up a violent storm of rain. As this was the day set apart according to custom in these parts for a Fast, I decided upon going to Medford. Found the family increased for the day by the addition of Mrs. Everett and Miss Phillips.1 I cannot say that I made any particular attention to the direction of our worthy Governor.2 Nothing particular occurred out of the usual line.

Morning cloudy and cold. Returned to town in time to avoid the rain which set in for the whole of the rest of the day. At the Office. Spirits not good as I am again becoming hypochondriac. Read Blackstone in the morning, Say in the afternoon and Pope’s Correspondence in the evening. My lodgings at the Marlborough though comfortable enough are not to my taste. I am exceedingly in want of society, for my thoughts instead of being diverted to outward objects, turn upon self where there is much which is not agreeable to think of.

Morning at the Office. Read Blackstone and passed the morning 365very quietly. In the afternoon, wrote a letter to my Mother with very little in it. The Truth is my wit is very barren and I am looking forward to a cessation of the Correspondence. My feelings are somewhat altered about writing, it being more of an exertion than it used to be. Evening, the Correspondence of Mr. Pope. We have had nothing but rain these three days.