Quite a sultry day. I went to the Office after taking a round with Louisa. My wife continues well and as she passes the critical days I feel as if I could hardly realize my blessings. My domestic happiness is such, why should I strive to shade it by dabbling in the dirty water of our political affairs. Yet I am in spite of warning playing with these edge tools.
I was obliged to go out on various affairs connected with the House at Quincy and my own which took much time. Read over part of the second Satire of Juvenal. He is a writer very well worth studying for the mordacious. Afternoon, resumed Thiers with the Seventh volume–The restraint at the Athenaeum being taken off. This is rather joining a wounded snake but it cannot be helped.
Shortly after five a Note reached me from my father announcing their probable arrival at Quincy this afternoon.1 I went out directly and we met at the gate. My father, mother, Mary, her two children and clouds of servants. They seemed better than I had reason to expect. Dull particularly Mary. I staid but a short time. And yet I did not get back to Boston until after nine o’clock.