The weather has been uncommon for the season. No storms, but dry weather for a long time and the wind alternating from east to west with the course of the sun. I devoted some time to papers today, but attended divine service and heard a very admirable sermon from Mr. Lunt. Luke 7. from the 18th verse to the close. The sending of John the Baptist to Jesus and the story of the penitent transgressor bathing the feet of Christ. There were passages of extraordinary beauty in this discourse which prove to me that Mr. Lunt is no ordinary man. But I would not do him the injustice to mangle them by attempting an Analysis.

Mr. Cranch a young man just out from the Divinity school and a son of Judge Cranch preached in the afternoon.1 Text Job. I cannot upon looking recur to the precise verse. The subject, trust in the divinity. He was evidently suffering under great embarrassment and the disadvantage of the contrast with the Sermon of the morning. Perhaps there is no more trying situation than the first attempt at public speaking.

Mr. Degrand came out here to dinner and Elizabeth C. Adams was here also. Nothing new. The former brought out Newspapers in plenty, but nothing at all new in them. The press is groaning daily in this Country under a heavy burden of trifles. Even politics get out little of public principle.

Read a sermon of Dr. Barrow, the last of the series upon contentment. This continues the examination of the nature of the duty and the inducements to it’s performance. There is much good matter in this range of Sermons. I only wish I could keep them in my memory better and use them as materials for reflection. But my mind from deficiency of early training catches with difficulty the train of a serious Essay. It gathers but partially even what strikes it most forcibly. And my feeble attempt in the spring to improve it ended in a very sudden and rather curious manner. My dash into politics spoilt it.

Morning clear but quite cool. As the season advances I find far more difficulty in my living out here. Went to town but did not get in until late. Occupied very much in a variety of ways—Attending to my household affairs which my approaching removal home renders necessary, and going over the Quarterly Accounts which require summing up.

Went down to the Athenaeum and looked over their files of Newspapers to get back the run of political Controversy. Nothing there of consequence. Called to see my publisher. Pamphlet not yet done. The gentlemen are all Whigs. My efforts do not seem to meet with much success. Shall I persevere? Yes.

Out to Quincy at the usual time. My father gone to a celebration of the Anniversary of Hingham. I received an invitation to go to Deerfield and hear Mr. Everett but could not accept it from the circumstance of my moving. I do not know that I should have done so without any such excuse. Afternoon, occupied in assorting papers. The weather has become so cold as to make working without a fire unpleasant. Quiet evening.