Morning at the Office, reading Blackstone. The weather begins to give signs of relenting. At twelve, I went with George to Quincy to see about my trees, and was engaged during the whole afternoon in transplanting some of the trees which I put down last year. They succeeded uncommonly well during the last year, but the accidents and
{p. 367}
neglect to which they were subjected checked them somewhat. My Uncle this day vacated the house, an event I have long looked for but which when it came surprised me. The mansion looks melancholy and old and ill used and gave me many ideas which I would have preferred not to have had, but so it must be. Returned to town early.