Morning warm and rainy, but it cleared away afterwards. My father went into town early to join a fishing party out of the harbour. I went in at about my usual time. Louisa was more affected this time by the parting than before. And I felt it more myself. At the Office and House. My No. 5 of the Appeal as well as my letter to We the People appeared this morning in the Advocate. This is the way we carry on the game.

As Wilson came in with my father I took him down with me to claim the warranty upon the horses, one of them proving lame. He refuses, and I must have trouble. This is matter of great regret. I do dislike contention and I am sorry to lose my opinion of a man I thought honest. Howsoever I went on as usual, after fixing upon a time for reference.

Home, read Juvenal’s third Satire. After dinner read Thiers, the campaign of Italy, a very fine thing. Finished the remaining papers of J.A. and Mad. du Deffand. Evening, a short walk and work. Finished three quarters of my last Number which will be long.

Morning fine. I went to the Office early and made arrangements for the reference, but I bethought myself it might be safer to go and examine the foot myself. I therefore asked the smith White to send for the horse and I went down myself to see him examined. The result was a complete conviction that if I rested my case upon that defect in the horse’s hoof which Wilson has made such a rout about, I should be defeated with damages. I therefore immediately concluded to take the horses back with the understanding that my right to a reference was not to be impaired while I was seeking to establish the nature of the defect.1 It does seem as if my good mother would to the end of her days create for me these little mortifications from her confidence in good for nothing servants.

Occupied in Diary and Accounts. Went with Mr. Brooks at noon to Medford. Found my Wife better than when I last saw her and the children nicely. Afternoon doing little or nothing—Reading two or three Articles in the Edinburgh and part of Irving’s book upon the Prairies,2 which I think exceedingly pretty.