Fine clear morning though much cooler than it has been for some days back. As this was the usual day of festival, I remained quietly at home. Last year, we had a day of great heat and noise, which for my own part I must confess I do not relish, as I did this today.

Occupied all the morning upon my Article which I at length finished. Took half an hour to go up and see my Tenants at Penn’s hill to whom I presented my bills but got no money from them. At any rate this part of my duty is done. Returned and got the intelligence of the appearance of the Cholera in New York.1 This will renew the 324Alarm here, although that has already been so pressed that man’s nature generally re-acts into confidence. My Mother has been for some days in a state of great and distressing anxiety on account of my brother’s child, Mary Louisa, whose disorders seem to have settled in her eyes, and produce excessive suffering. Indeed the whole house experiences the consequence, particularly at night.

Afternoon, I read a good deal of Seneca’s Consolation to Marcia. His pictures are too laboured. He dwells on what he thinks a striking thought until he has gone into every detail, and in fact wears it entirely out. Evening quiet. Elizabeth C. Adams was here at tea, and my wife and I accompanied her in her walk home.

Fine morning. I went to Boston. Occupied when there in my own affairs and those of my father. Made some Collections and on the whole put the Accounts of the Quarter upon a tolerable footing. Called a few moments upon Mr. Brooks. My time was thus fully taken up. I returned to Quincy.

Afternoon, finished Seneca’s book of Consolation to Marcia. I do not like it as well as the others. The topics of Consolation are few and simple. They require less art than almost any writing. Any thing formal becomes Parade. Passed an hour upon the Papers of my Grandfather. Elizabeth C. Adams dined and Mrs. Adams and Miss Smith took tea with us. I passed an hour at Mr. Beale’s. The child seemed a little better today.

I remained quietly at home all day. Weather warm and dry. I cannot say that I was properly occupied. After having read over my composition and feeling as usual exceedingly dissatisfied with it, I sat down to look over some old letters of my Grandfather’s. I methodized the letters of the last few years of his life, and went over two Chests. There are now remaining only three Chests, but those are crowded. Looked over the last number of the North American Review. The Articles seem to me to carry no interest with them. Indeed this Review seems to me now to be mainly supported by Mr. Peabody the Clergyman.1 Miss Elizabeth C. Adams took tea with us. The Child remains much in the same state. We sent in today for Dr. Reynolds.2 But he did not come. Our baby, I thank Heaven, gives us, in the meantime, little trouble.