I remained at home all day—My father going to Cambridge to the exercises of the ΦBK. My day was not very usefully spent. Arranged and put away the Manuscripts as far as I had gone with them, then read German, the Story of the Halden Family becomes so interesting that I pursue it whenever I take it up. La Fontaine’s style is now easy 375but I cannot read any body else’s. This is a difficulty greater in German than in any other language apparently. I pursued my usual study of Ovid. This is my beggarly account of my summer exploits. I do nothing but luxuriate in the indulgence of reading. Evening, Cards. Interrupted by a visit from Mr. and Miss Beale, Mr. and Mrs. Emmons.

Arose early and set off with Walter Hellen for Boston so as to be in time for the boat which goes to Nahant. As this is one of our greatest curiosities I thought it would be an act of kindness to let Walter Hellen see it before he left this part of this Country. We were extremely fortunate in our day which was clear and calm—The wind from the Eastward so as to make it quite cool. We started at nine and reached Nahant by eleven. There were few people on board the Boat or at the Hotel with whom I was acquainted so that we spent our time in rambling about to see the Swallow’s cave, the spouting horn and the other curiosities of the place. This with a game at billiards killed the day. At dinner we met with Mrs. Gorham and Mrs. Chadwick, and Col. S. Swett who had been in the Boat was very civil to us. These were all with whom I was acquainted. My luck was not so great today as upon the last occasion when I was here with Robert Buchanan. But perhaps I was as well off. Nahant is a fatiguing place to spend a day. There is such a seeking after amusement and so little freshness and seclusion. Sun and rocks strike at first but soon grow tiresome.1 We reached Boston shortly after Sunset, and Quincy after eight o’clock, heated and tired. E. C. Adams at the House. Family as usual.

This was the day fixed for the termination of our visit at Quincy and return to Medford. I started as usual shortly after breakfast. Engaged most of the day at the Office in making up the arrears of my Diary which the voluminous occupations of the week have thrown into the background. I wrote pretty constantly but did not quite succeed in finishing all I had to do.

Rode to Medford—The day feeling like Autumn. The place as quiet 376as usual. I passed my afternoon not very usefully but still quietly and in the pursuit of my usual studies. Read Madame de Maintenon and Ovid. But I must get higher game than all this amounts to.

My Wife conversed with me about the prospects for a winter arrangement. It will soon be necessary to reflect well upon this subject, and make some definite choice. Mr. Brooks is troubling his mind about it at present as he does not know what to do. I must think well about it, and decide soon. In the evening, quietly at home. Read in the Quarterly Review the article upon Sir Jas. Mackintosh.1