Fine day. I rode to town. Weather quite warm. Time taken up all the morning in Commissions. Went to the House to see that every thing was safe and in order there. Found that the Painters had been both curious and negligent—Opening windows &c., but no harm done. Then to the Athenaeum, to write Diary at Office, and to make a purchase or two. Such is the outline of the morning.
I remained in town to dinner and went to the Tremont House, the table thin and not so good as usual. Thence to Boylston Market calling on the way to see one or two Tenants and to dun for money. There was no meeting of the Directors of the Boylston Market as I had expected, so I remained in town for nothing.
Returned to Quincy by five and read an Ode or two of Horace. Evening very quiet. Upon going to bed however we, found the child exhibiting symptoms which from their suddenness and similarity to the croup alarmed us exceedingly. She got through the night however, though not without constant anxiety on our part. Indeed, I have never before experienced what emotion was. I love that child perhaps too much. If so, may God in his mercy look tenderly upon me.