I did not arise in better humour than when I retired the evening past. And I continued feeling quite low spirited throughout the day. I attended Divine Service with Abby in the morning and heard Dr. Follen preach a Sermon without a Text. This is strange and I do not know how to like it; old prejudices are strong against the innovation and even without them, I think the evident object of the institution is to illustrate and explain passages of the Scriptures, and that it is therefore much more clearly effected by setting before one the end to which all conclusions must be directed. In modern times, texts have been falling into unpopularity but as I think very unreasonably, and I believe it would be found that much less will be found to remain in the memory of the common classes of people who are most benefitted by these Addresses, through the medium of a process of Orationizing, than by the old practise of familiar texts. Dr. Follen is a German who 22is attached to Harvard College and since his residence in this Country has taken to Divinity.1 He reads English well for a foreigner. He dined with us. After dinner I went to walk and not to Church for he was rather too dry.

On my return, found Mr. Shepherd who was soon after followed by Edward Brooks and his Wife.2 These are the most agreeable part of the family to me, though I have seen much least of them.3 They are tolerably merry people, and so they enlivened us much at tea. Mrs. Brooks looked and appeared fatigued and sick. The evening passed in conversation with Mr. Brooks upon fruits and then old Boston history—rather dry—but I try to interest myself in these things. Afterwards, a Conversation with Abby, which it will do well to remember, though I should be foolish to detail it here.

Returned to town this morning in Mr. Brooks’ Carriage with him, Miss Lydia Phillips,1 and Mr. Frothingham, thus leaving Abby at Medford not to return until tomorrow. This was one of the hardest struggles with myself that I ever made. I wanted her dreadfully to return with me, although I could not be angry with her desire to remain, and so after reflection I determined to give my consent to her staying, intimating at the same time that I should not return in the evening as she wished me to. There was to be a Medford party at Mrs. Frothingham’s, and as these to me are shocking bores and I see no reason on earth for me to subject myself to them, I preferred even a separation for a day. Medford itself under present circumstances is a disagreeable place as it divides with me more than I wish it did the affections of my Wife. I feel therefore more pain than pleasure in 23being there at all, and I regret that it should come in such a hurry to put a check, to the heretofore delicious current of our honeymoon. Had Abby returned with me, I should have perhaps adored her for the sacrifice, but I did not expect it and I was not disappointed.

My morning was partly taken up by a long walk into Front Street and an order for my Wood for the Winter. I took ten Cords of a Mr. Stephen Child at five dollars a Cord. I then called upon Mr. Cunningham the Auctioneer to see about the late Sale, but I found the Books had not yet all been called for, so that no settlement could be made. The remainder of the morning was passed at the Office reading Marshall on Insurance, a book of some value, and not without interest, particularly in the history of Marine Law in general, a subject with which I ought to be better acquainted. After my lonely dinner at home, I went to the Office and superintended it’s cleaning up—a thing which it needed exceedingly. A woman called upon me about Mr. Farmer and that affair.2 I dread to see her as much as I do him, but it seemed only a friendly visit to congratulate me on my marriage. My evening was passed in my study alone. I seized the occasion to write a long letter to John,3 and then read further in La Harpe in which I finished his Analysis of Aristotle on Poetry and commenced Longinus. I retired to my lonely apartment and tried in immediate sleep to forget that it was the first time since my late marriage that I already was alone.