Fine day. I went to Boston and passed my morning in a variety of occupations. Went to the house where I found the Carpenter at work in preparing for the arrival of the Painter. Tomorrow the latter begins. I also spent a little while upon ‘change and a little upon Bradford’s History which I am sure I find more dry than any thing I have yet examined.1 Thus passed my time until the hour of return. One thing lightened my heart considerably and that was the news from New 152York of Henry Brooks which was quite encouraging. Poor fellow. I hope he will be able to weather it this time. After dinner, I had time only to write my Diary, read an Eclogue of Virgil and copy a very little of my task. In all this, Hutchinson does not progress. I am not without reflecting a good deal upon it, however. Evening quiet at home—Reading a little.

Fine day. I rode to town accompanied by my brother. Time taken up in my usual variety of ways. I went first to my House where I found the Painter had set his men to work in earnest. The day is exceedingly favourable. Finding they needed no further overseeing I went away. At my Office a Note sent me down all the way to 135 Ann Street after a pump maker to repair 105 Tremont Street, and from thence I went to the Athenaeum for the purpose of obtaining one or two volumes.

Hearing that Mr. Sergeant of Philadelphia was here, my brother and I concluded that it would be proper to call.1 We found him at home, as well as Mrs. and two Miss Sergeants. He looks somewhat altered in his face during the six years since I have seen him. He said the same of me. After sitting fifteen minutes, we started off on our road homeward.

Afternoon, an Eclogue of Virgil, my Diary and copying. It was interrupted somewhat early by a summons to get ready to attend the Wedding of Miss Caroline L. Whitney the daughter of the Minister of our Parish married to a Mr. Charles Hill of Roxbury. Most of the people of Quincy were there. One or two pretty faces, but it was extremely dull to me at least. I have learnt to look upon these things as the taxes we pay to Society, and therefore submit to them patiently. Return at nine.

Fine day though cool. I remained at home all day, and it was tolerably fortunate that I did, for I found myself unexpectedly quite indisposed. This lasted throughout the day and materially diminished the amount of my labor.

I did effect something nevertheless upon Hutchinson. I find my ideas flow fast enough but they want methodizing. I propose to write all I think of first, then to read Hutchinson’s book carefully over again and digest the material before I begin, in the finish. I wish I had the facility which distinguishes some. Yet I do not know whether I ought to do so.

Several visitors were here, but I did not go in to see them. Afternoon Virgil and Copying, which with a little comparing Journal with my father must account for the time. Evening, Sir Jonah Barrington1 and the Mirror.