Very heavy rain again today. I did not stir out of the House. Read Muller and almost finished the lively Account of the Appenzel Insurrection. Then Hume whose Dialogues I finished. He was a Deist admiring to1 exercise his capacity upon intricate subjects and scarcely possessing the foundation necessary to fix his judgment to sound con-330clusions. Wrote and copied a letter to my father and read a little of Jay. So much for the morning.

In the Afternoon, I read Walpole’s Letters which are all of them amusing enough. He had the art of writing nothings admirably well. His life was the life of a humanist. His feelings do not appear to have been so strong as his expressions and His heart amazingly selfish. Ovid, Elegies. That upon the death of Tibullus is very pretty. Evening continued Walpole.

The day was cloudy with passing showers. I went to town in my own way. Time somewhat taken up with commissions after which I sat down and made up the record of my Diary which has been going backward this week—An inconvenience attending my absences from town. This and accounts took up my day. Returned in a shower. P. C. Brooks Jr. came out with his father. After dinner read Walpole, and Ovid.

My Wife this day received a letter from my Mother stating the probability that my brother and his family would in all probability come with her and spend the remainder of the Summer at Quincy.1 She hints at losses of property and at our taking a separate house in case I should conclude to go to Washington next Winter. I am afraid things there are in a condition such as for a long time I have anticipated. The worst of it is that there is no remedy to that disease. A good pruning knife would have done the business long ago. The consequence of this immediate step seems to be probably to fix my family where it now is for the Summer.

Morning pleasant. I went to town accompanied by Mr. Brooks who took me a long Journey round to deliver him in Chestnut Street. We 331did not reach it after all. In the course of it, I went into streets I had never seen before. Very good ones too.

Engaged at the Office in writing and reading. Nothing particular however. I sat down and tried to understand the science of bookkeeping according to the Italian method, but I made a very poor business of it. There is something puzzling in applying this to a small scale. Yet it is so necessary in a business community like this to be acquainted with it that on the first of July I intend to make an effort.

Home to dinner. Afternoon reading Mrs. Inchbald’s Memoir by Boaden.1 A poor thing. Ovid, Art of Love. Evening, Quarterly Review—June, a little.