The perfect calm which prevailed until eleven o’clock seemed to me the most forcible example of the torrid zone I had ever perceived. I concluded not to go to town and tried to get some shade and air in 340the grove by the pond. But this was worse and worse. I retreated into the House and at the hour above mentioned a breeze arose which took off all oppression, leaving the atmosphere still very warm.

Read the Ghost Seer in which I made considerable progress and an article in the Christian Examiner upon the application of the Old Testament prophecies to the coming of Jesus. Liberal beyond all liberality and in my mind very abominable.1 Mrs. Frothingham spent the day here and so did George M. Dexter who brought her out and dined here. Afternoon, Whately’s Rhetoric.2 Ovid. Evening, fine southerly breeze, but I could not read.

Very warm day although not quite so oppressive as it had been from the presence of some light, flying clouds which settled into a thunder storm, in the afternoon. I went to town accompanied by Mr. Brooks. No accounts from Washington. My time was passed at the office and in commissions part of which carried me to my house. A terribly warm walk. Took up a new book upon Political Economy I found in my office but could not read much of it. On the whole rather easy. Home. Several deaths reported to have taken place. Whately’s Rhetoric and Ovid. Remedy of Love, contains at least one passage of admirable poetry and several of exceedingly pleasing character. Evening, North American Review.

Morning cloudy and much more cool. I went to town with the idea of going to Quincy to meet my father whom I expected to see there, but upon arriving I found a letter dated at Philadelphia on Tuesday informing me of the probability that owing to the sudden illness of my Uncle Mr. Johnson, my Mother would not be able to come away for some time, so that they would not reach this quarter until the middle of next week.1 This changed my plans and after spending my time much as usual, I returned to Medford.

Afternoon, Dr. and Mrs. Stevenson and their child called and spent the afternoon. Of course I could not do much. Read a little of the fourth volume of Puckler Muskau and found him amusing though this is the second perusal.2 Evening quiet. Really a do nothing sort of a life.