My wife was so unwell this Morning that we did not make any attempt to leave town. I went to Meeting at Mr. Frothingham’s for the first time for several months. Heard him preach morning and Afternoon. His Sermons are highly laboured, and in themselves finished pieces of Composition, though the thoughts run hard. There is no natural and easy flow which is attractive even in its redundancy. I have noticed that his best Sermons are preached in the Afternoon. Probably because they are selected from the best of his efforts for a considerable period of time. My principal occupation was the correcting Copies for Mr. Sparks, which with all the time today I did not entirely finish. Mr. and Mrs. Frothingham, Miss Carter and Dr. Stevenson called to see my Wife. Evening, a Sermon of Dr. Barrow’s,1 and an attempt to write which failed.

Morning quite cold and the wind became Easterly and comfortless. We pay for our fine days in April. Went to the Office as usual, and passed the larger part of the morning in my translation of Aeschines. This has grown tedious. Yet I feel as if once undertaken, it should not be abandoned, and as yet I have not even reached the place I arrived before at. Nothing particularly worth mentioning occurred. Called to see Mr. Brooks and to explain to him the reasons which had induced me to take my course in regard to my residence at Quincy. He appeared to acquiesce in the correctness of it though there is a something about it I relish very little. Undoubtedly his view can have little reference to mine and he perhaps feels little disposed to interest himself in a more distant when he has so many nearer connexions. So that I must act independently, trusting as I have nearly always done to my own judgment.

After dinner, I again went to Quincy, to open the House and give all the necessary directions in order to make one of my Servants comfortable, who has gone out there to clean and arrange previous to the arrival of the family. This is a troublesome matter, for which I shall get no great thanks, but still it is too bad to allow my Mother to come to a place in the condition in which that now is. I found all the Stores and all the Linen and Silver, and gave it to the Woman’s charge. This kept me until quite late. I then returned and after tea, Edmund Quincy dropped in and amused us the rest of the Evening.

Morning cloudy and cold. The Weather for some time past has been of the most disagreeable kind we have. The Easterly Wind quite sharp and piercing. After sending to be sold some of the books belonging to my brother, which are duplicates of those I myself possess, I went to the Office, where my time was passed in translating as usual. J. B. Davis called upon me about a Communication I had sent to the Patriot. His proposition was that he should put it under the editorial head of his paper, to which I very willingly consented although he proposes so much to adopt1 it, as not to allow me the authorship. This may be flattering but I can scarcely fancy it fair. However this is a mere premier pas.

I got something beyond my former mark in translating Aeschines before. Afternoon, began the final perusal of the same Orations in Reiske’s edition to read the Notes.2 But I begin to feel exceedingly wearied by an occupation of which even as yet I see little or no termination, and am moreover doubtful of my success. Yet as nothing new offers itself, and I am ashamed to turn back, it is as well to go on. Perhaps if I can find a light subject in the mean time, I will try it. Evening, read to my Wife a part of the Arabian Nights—Stories as amusing to me now as ever. After which I read more of Aeschines.