Here we are in the month of July. A considerable portion of the Summer gone and I have done nothing worthy to be recorded. The days are passing over me without my heeding, and not a mark in their course to look back upon with pleasure or exultation.

The Clouds were low and threatened rain. I went to town notwithstanding as it was Quarter day. At the Office, Mr. Conant from Weston came here and gave me Edward Derby’s Note which I got cashed by Mr. Fiske almost immediately.1 I paid several demands, and copied my Account for my Father. Some Commissions were also to be performed for the family at Quincy so that on the whole I had no spare time. Returned to Quincy.

After dinner my Uncle the Judge came in to do business with me. He seemed depressed and sick. One of his Actions was unaccountable. After explaining to me the nature of a transfer of two shares of Atlas Stock to his Son Thomas, all of which I knew before, just as he was going away, he put into my hand a seal and a gold medal with a request that I would take care of them, while I was here, for he did not 81know what might happen to him. After reflecting upon matters, I conclude that he means to intimate his fears of an attachment of his Property.

The Afternoon was wasted. I filed very few Papers. My Mother and Wife being invited to take tea at Mrs. Adams’ to see her daughter Mrs. Angier, I walked up also, and spent a stupid evening. Mr. Marston and Miss Smith there besides the family.2 My father appeared extremely depressed also.3 Evening, Grimm and the Spectator.

Morning clear. I went to Boston as usual and was occupied the greater part of the time in Accounts. Not having any book to read at the Office I must also accuse myself of negligence and Idleness. A thing I am compelled to do much more often than I could wish. Nothing of any consequence took place.

Returned to Quincy to dinner, and in the afternoon I was taken up in reading and assorting more of my Grandfather’s Papers. I now confine myself to the expectation of completing the Papers previous to 1790—A Task in itself not trifling.

I went to the Bath in the afternoon with I. Hull and Joseph Adams, which took up an hour. There had been little or no rain here when I had been caught on the road in a most violent shower. These rains have all been very partial in their character, but quite heavy where they have fallen.

A quiet evening at home. I read a good deal of the Cunningham Correspondence, and of the causes of Pickering’s anger, which go to show me very strongly how malignant and how unjust he was. My father seemed a little depressed by a swelling of his face. I finished Grimm’s fourth volume and two numbers of the Spectator.

The Weather is becoming as warm again as it was a fortnight ago. I attended divine service all day and heard Mr. Whitney preach two Sermons neither of which made me particularly attentive. This I con-82sider such a misfortune that on my return to Boston I propose to correct it, and the only way I can think will be to carry a Bible with me, and consult the passage cited comparing it with the Commentary.

I read a few of my Grandfathers Papers and the play of the Siege of Calais by de Belloi,1 in consequence of Grimm’s criticism. I find it in some respects just but very harsh—The play having more merit in it than I expected, and many of the lines being particularly striking. But such are the merits of Critics. Afternoon I took a Bath with my father, and found it extremely refreshing. Mr. and Mrs. Angier called. She is silly from affectation. Quiet evening. The Cunningham Correspondence and the Spectator.