I went to Market as usual upon the morning preceding Thanksgiving day and found the price of Poultry by the extortion of the venders 220who attempt a monopoly so high that I declined buying any at all. And my general purchases were very slight. Occupied some time in running about to procure a pew at the Meeting house in Chauncy place and finally succeeded in taking one in the Gallery, which I occupied last Sunday.

The remainder of the morning passed in reading the Parliamentary Debates. I find nothing satisfies me after the speech of Mr. Burke. Afternoon, Lord Bacon, Novum Organum, and in the evening, besides Virgil I began Smith’s Theory of Moral Sentiments. Read to my Wife from the Psalms and Tom Jones.

This was the day set apart as usual for Thanksgiving. It was quite pleasant, and I read in the course of the morning a considerable quantity of Chalmers’ Treatise. He introduces a long argument against the Tythe system and the poor laws not very judiciously I should think in a general dissertation. These matters would put people to sleep in the next Century.

Attended divine service and heard Mr. Frothingham from Isaiah 9. 3. “Thou hast multiplied the nation and not increased the joy; they joy before thee according to the joy in harvest.” An historical Account of Thanksgiving day from the earliest days of the Colony—A festival after harvest. The discourse was excellent and some passages extracted from the early records of the General Court very interesting.

I took a walk and then went to dine with my Wife at Mr. Brooks’—Mrs. Everett who is Mistress of the House, Mr. and Mrs. Frothingham, Edward Brooks, and several of their respective children. Pleasant enough. My Wife returned before tea and we passed a quiet evening at home.

Morning cloudy and raw. I went to the Office and finished the Parliamentary History, for 1774—A record of great importance in American Affairs. Little else. I called at the Athenaeum and procured another Volume of a better collection. Afternoon, Lord Bacon, and the beautiful 6th. book of Virgil, Smith’s Moral Sentiments, Tom Jones. Nothing material happens to enliven the monotony of the daily duties.

We have heard and with deep regret of the death of Mary E. Roberdeau in Philadelphia. She had recommended herself much to us here 221by her good nature and pleasing manners, two years since, and we had hoped to have seen her again, although she has been for some time announcing her decline. So it is in this world. Every step we make brings us nearer to the pitfalls.1 There is a deeper moral in every death, particularly after persons become parents. Mr. Brooks.