Morning at Quincy, instead of rain as we expected, we found a warm sun and a summer’s day. My mother seemed a little better, but so many strange ways seem to have crept into the House that I feel no longer at home. We waited as usual when my father is in the case, pretty long before we could start for Boston. He had agreed to go and dine with us, so that my Wife accompanied us, and Abby Adams. We did not reach Boston until eleven, when I was hurried all the rest of the time. Went with my father to my Office, where we executed certain papers for the Estate of W. N. Boylston, Mr. Curtis and Mrs. Boylston being there for the purpose.1 This over, a few Commissions, a visit to Mr. Brooks and my Journal took up the rest of my time, until dinner. My father, Miss Abby Adams and Miss Julia Gorham dined with us. The first was made heavy and sleepy by the weather so that we had little Conversation. At five we returned to Quincy, and I rarely recollect suffering more than we did during our ride—The heat being intense and the Carriage shut close. I was glad to be freed from this restraint, and to breathe a fresher air. The Evening was passed in the Portico,2 in the first thing like a Conversation which we have been able to carry on, and this was mostly upon Political matters which do not materially interest me.

Morning warm, but the wind changed to the eastward in a little while and a thunder shower in the evening cooled the air completely. I went to Boston, and spent an hour or more at the House in bottling the remainder of my Sherry Wine which turns out better than I had anticipated. I have now five dozen and a half to keep as choice wine, which will be worth nearly what I paid for the whole, besides the quantity used for the last six months. This done I went to the Office and was occupied there in my usual way of writing my Journal. I find my time now much more limited than it used to be last Summer as I go out of town to dine.

Called in to see Mr. Brooks and found him engaged so much that I did not stay long, and from there went to Quincy. Found my Mother so much better as to sit up and she seemed moreover in tolerable 262spirits. After dinner I sat down with my father to the work of a Catalogue of his Library.1 How far we shall succeed I do not know. But the value of a library like that is essentially diminished by not knowing what is in it. We were interrupted by a visit from the two Mr. Everetts, Alex. and Edward. The former of whom spoke to me of my Article for his Review very openly and made me feel a little awkward. After a short visit they were driven away by the rain. Evening, a short and uninteresting conversation with my father.