Morning to town. Mr. Frothingham came in with me and we had much conversation upon many subjects, in most of which I found our notions agree considerably. Discussing the character of Mr. Everett, I saw clearly that we both understood his character. But I felt unwilling to go very much into the expression of my opinions. Mr. Everett has been friendly to me, and it is very silly for me to hazard his kindness and turn it into enmity of a most disagreeable description. At the Office. Nothing remarkable. Dismissed my new Office boy in disgust. Up at the house where I wasted an hour pleasantly with Abby, but did nothing. Called to see my Carpenter but could not find him. My bookcase lags. Then to the Office and out of town. Pleasant dinner at home and discussion about Wine in which I found I knew very little about it. Walk into the town to see about certain bottles, but I could not obtain any. My father promises me some fine Madeira if I set about it. Dropped in to see my Uncle Thomas and his family. Spent half an hour there in conversation about immaterial things, obtained a Volume of my set of Voltaire which has been there since last year and returned home to tea. So fatigued this evening that I could not sit up beyond nine o’clock, being another case of overfatigue. My father was interesting too, upon the English Novelists.