Morning to town. The weather exceedingly warm. At the Office. Received a most extraordinary Note from Mrs. Longhurst with a remittance of fifty dollars. I replied to it promptly and in such manner that her leaving the House now would not surprise me,1 and indeed would it be matter of indifference as I had rather take my chance of a good tenant, who paid punctually, even if I should be compelled to lower the rent. She wishes me to lower the rent for her without paying. Walked to the House and saw Abby. My book cases not yet done. Returned to the Office, engaged in tearing and assorting old papers, until dinner time. Dined at Judge Hall’s. My father, Mr. J. Russel, Col. Hall, Judge, wife and son. Tolerably pleasant. His wine was good. But a thunder storm detained me longer than I wished as the Judge is prosy after dinner, and his lady talks shocking scandal. Rode to Medford in the evening, came in to tea and Dr. Swann. Evening, saw Mrs. Brooks, who has been quite ill, but is better and was lively tonight. Remainder of the evening as usual.

Morning exceedingly warm and sultry. Remained at home all day and wasted it shockingly. I could regret much this way if I did not hope it was soon to cease. In the afternoon, I read half a Volume of Chesterfield, Letters to his son. They display wonderful knowledge of men and though it is the fashion to decry them, I think they are admirable as instruction. To be sure it will not do to put them into the hands of the very young, but after moral education is complete they are useful, for they only teach to combine the useful and ornamental with the correct, when properly taken, and who would not wish to unite them all. P. Chardon Brooks and his wife out here in the afternoon and Mr. Cotton Brooks of whom I have spoken once or twice heretofore. The weather was warm until evening when there was a violent thunder shower.

Morning to town accompanied by Abby. Called in passing upon Mr. Stetson to inquire of whom it would be necessary to obtain a 416certificate after the publishment of the banns. This thing must be done directly. At the Office, my boy out of the way so much that I turned him off, though with regret. At the house saw Abby but my bookcases not finished yet.

Assorted more of George’s letters and in the afternoon, read his letters to Mary C. Hellen during their engagement, which was the flower of his life. Affectionate enough but rather seldom. Written once a month or so when I wrote twice a week to Abby. This was the mistake he made for he suffered her affection, at all times volatile, to become perfectly cool.

Engaged the remainder of the afternoon in putting up my books in their cases. I doubt whether those yet put up will contain one half of them. Thus it was nearly seven before I left town. Evening at Quincy. Conversation with my father. Family affairs. Old History. I forgot to mention that I took order to have myself published in Boston and wrote to Medford to Mr. Bartlett, town Clerk, to do the same.1 Evening cool after a warm day.