Fine morning, with occasional clouds, which only served to keep off the great heat of the Sun. I attended divine Service all day, and heard 91Mr. Whitney of Hingham preach. His morning Sermon was upon Content with small gains, preferably to wealth unfairly acquired. It was very far above the general tone of his Sermons and really exceedingly sensible. His manner of delivery is very bad and his appearance far from favorable, but he is more of a Preacher than I took him to be. He dined with us, and did not support in the tenor of his conversation any opinion which his morning’s Sermon might create. The afternoon’s discourse was not so interesting. I finished Hurd’s Commentary upon the Art of Poetry and Francis’ Translation today.1 The first is good but I am afraid a little fanciful. The latter seems very spirited.

In the evening, my father and I went down to pay a visit to the Quincys. Found them at home and enjoyed the visit. There is something pleasant after all in going to see educated people. The style of conversation is better, and the sense that your mind is not wholly unemployed makes the time appear spent not altogether without profit. Returned to read Grimm and the Spectator.

The day was rather cloudy, occasionally threatening rain. I went to town as usual, overtaking Mr. G. Dawes. I invited him to accompany me. I was once very well acquainted with one of his brothers, and now look back upon the time with wonder at the changes which the world has produced.1 He seems to be one of the do nothings of this world, of which there are so many. Without industry and without resources, and his mind is limited almost to the circle of the senses. I went to the Office and was busy in my worldly affairs. Mr. Geitner called and paid me rent. I wrote Journal, went to the Athenaeum to get a book for my father, and passed the remaining time in writing my criticism of Mr. Otis. I shall not find time to publish it as soon as I ought. Left town at the regular hour.

Miss Elizabeth Adams dined with us. I wasted the Afternoon in putting back Papers, and in reading the North American Review. Mr. Ballister called upon me. He is one of the Consignees of John’s Flour in Boston. His request was for Instructions, as much of it was spoiling upon his hands.2 I told him I would report to my Father. In doing so, I took occasion to express my own opinions upon the expediency of his continuing the business. I did it in a firm but temperate way expressing as far as possible my own want of individual interest in the 92course I was pursuing. He seemed indisposed to listen much less to follow,3 but I have done my duty and wash my hands of the consequences. That the result would be ruin to my Father I have foreseen all along and have been trying to shelter myself as much as possible from the Storm but it comes more rapidly than I had anticipated.4

This is the last day of our visit to Quincy. In the evening I accompanied my Father in a visit to Mr. T. Greenleaf’s which I felt that I owed. Nothing new. Returned home. Read Grimm and the Spectator.