My morning was principally occupied in looking over the papers which my brother left at his Office. Knowing his continual preservation of all papers, I feared that some might remain which would grieve the family. I found three or four which I destroyed. George had an extremely amiable disposition, but he was the creature of impulse and frequently gave way to the seductions which an ill regulated imagination excited. My father almost lived in him and the loss will to him indeed be dreadful. My anxiety to hear from there is great. My own reflections are gloomy and I pray God for assistance and aid. But as I find that my thoughts turn more and more upon it, I see the necessity
of occupation and therefore read Clarendon but without much profit as my mind wandered from it. In the evening, I went to see Mr. and Mrs. Frothingham and their conversation helped to pass away the evening. Abby wrote me a very kind note1
on Saturday in which she promised to be in town if I asked to see her. My letter2
did not reach her for this morning and the rain prevented her coming.