I arose this morning feeling extremely unwell, and omitted my usual bath. By starvation however I recovered the tone of my stomach and felt as well as usual before evening. I did not attend divine service in the morning.

After dinner, heard Dr. Follen 43 Psalm 5. “Why art thou cast down O my soul? and why art thou disquieted within me? hope in God”: He reviewed the miseries of life, the uncertainties of this world, and considered them as yielding to the desire which improves upon experience. A little touch at politics, the late liberation of slaves in the West Indies, as a sign of this great improvement. A poor sermon.

Read one of Warburton’s which struck me much. 1 Corinthians 1. 30 “Jesus Christ who of God is made unto us wisdom and righteousness and sanctification and redemption.” One part of the Sermon seemed to be intended to form Christs character as a divine Messenger foretold, the other to show the purposes of his coming as explained in the two latter terms of the text. The argument upon the nature of the prophecy 394and the fulfilment of it by the Saviour seems to me very strong and embodies many floating thoughts which I has in reading Mr. Noyes’ Article in the Christian Examiner.1

I read and finished La Fontaine’s third story. It has perhaps Passages more eloquent than either of the Other, but I like it as a whole the least. Yet there is a moral tone pervading all his works which renders them charming to me. Minor Morals, which I do not like at all or believe in.

A cool morning but a beautifully clear one. We were again in some anxiety respecting our child who droops in an inexplicable manner. I went to town in my own way and was occupied in a variety of things. Drew up my Quarterly Account which is by far the smallest I ever presented. This with going round in various directions for one thing and another took my time. Finding myself so unable to pursue the investigation of title with the closeness I ought to, and perceiving that Mr. Walsh really wants business and I do not, I thought it an act of kindness in me to give it over to him to do.

Dined at Mr. Frothingham’s. Conversation not interesting. He has the strong prejudices of the sphere in which he lives and when they come in contact with mine which are as strong and as peculiar, there follows constraint. I have of late acquired the wisdom in general to hold my tongue.

Attended a meeting of the Directors of the Boylston Market where they made a good Dividend and debated the rest of the afternoon without coming to any conclusion, as usual. We have one or two great Speakers upon these occasions. Rode to Quincy. Found my Mother rather better and the rest of the family as usual. Miss Louisa Foster staying out there.1

A cold morning. I remained at Quincy today. Most of my time spent with my Mother who was better and sat up some hours in conversation. I also read through Goldsmith’s charming little story of the 395Vicar of Wakefield,1 in consequence of my purchase the other day of Newton’s picture engraved by Burniè. There is a most fascinating union of shrewdness and simplicity, of genuine feeling and drollery developed in it’s natural forms. No exaggeration, no straining after strong lights and gaudy shows.

We dined early in order to accommodate Dr. Waterhouse who came over on his annual visit. He is now eighty years of age but time is heavy upon his intellect. He begins to repeat and to talk without object. The change is a painful one.2 It prefigures what we may all come to. It shows the dark side of this world. The Dr. is now a child under direction of no mild Mistress and perhaps that may have contributed to his decline. I left him to sit with my Mother.

Evening, a conversation with my father upon the subject of the old controversy with the federalists which has been revived by a private letter form old Mr. Pickman of Salem calling upon him for private explanation, in a friendly way.3 This has affected my father, and although he gives up nothing yet I think I see a little regret at his position. We discussed the opposed characters of Mr. Lowell and Mr. Otis, and the probable actors in the scheme of an Eastern confederacy—Col. Pickering one of the main pillars of it.