At home all day. Ennuyé un peu. Too many people here. I cannot somehow or other get along pleasantly, and why, it is inconceivable to me unless perhaps that the manners are too noisy for my modest diffidence. I am unable to make that stir which others do. Sidney and his wife, Mr. Everett and his wife, Mr. Frothingham and his wife, and Mr. Briggs, the Minister who preached,1 were the persons who were here during the course of the day but they all left before evening, which I passed as usual with Abby. I am a little surprised to hear of the dissolution of the engagement of Allyne Otis with Miss Lenox. But from what I have heard, it ought not perhaps to astonish me. I was not aware of it, when I met him the other day.

Returned to town, accompanied by Mr. Brooks, and the road seemed short but the day was passed busily at my Office in finishing my Inventory, which I succeeded in doing, though at the expence of my dinner. My spirits were somehow or other most unaccountably depressed all day. I could not myself in any degree account for it. Probably however the reaction upon the excitement of last week. My engagements also are exceedingly numerous, and having but little method about them, trouble my mind without my being able to go on more rapidly than I do. I went to Quincy a little earlier in consequence and passed the evening in conversation with my father—poor George’s affairs.

Morning to town. Attended Court all the morning. The new Docket was called but I was late for the only case in which I was concerned. This was not a matter of much importance as it happened to be defaulted. But it made me remain in Court nearly all the morning, which need not have been. The remainder of the day was passed in arranging the papers relating to the Agency, drawing up powers to obtain Dividends upon Stock and writing dunning letters to the Tenants. Thus it became time for me to return to Quincy. I have not felt quite so well for two days, owing to an indulgence in fruit: my health is delicate but very good. My doctrine now is that of the Ancient philosopher μηδεν αγαν.1 Evening, a long conversation with my father. Family pride, a strong instance in himself, much exceeding even what I suspected. I feel at times depressed by it, for now the dependance upon me is perfectly prominent. And beyond me, there is little hope, though in my father, that little centers in the person of his Nephew, John Quincy.2

Morning to town after copying a number of letters for my father, which detained me until rather late. The weather exceedingly warm. I was compelled to walk to Long Wharf to take some order with respect 403to some Oats for our Horses. The heat and my fatigue rendered me so sleepy and tired that I was not good for any useful purpose during the remainder of the morning. I therefore only read some stupid Anecdotes of Ancient and modern Music. Afternoon, occupied in copying out into my own private book the Account of the Inventory. This occupied me until five when I rode to Watertown to Edward Brooks’, being caught on the road by a violent shower which compelled me to seek shelter on the other side of Cambridge bridge in a shed. Took tea at Watertown where I met Abby as by agreement and Miss Phillips. After tea, rode with Abby to Medford. Evening as usual, but still very warm.