My sad reflections did not prevent my sleeping until near six o’clock this morning, after which I arose and occupied myself in reading until ten o’clock when I started to go to Medford. The day was chilly. Found Abby slightly unwell and asleep, in consequence of which I amused myself in reading the American Quarterly Review. Mr. Thayer, a young man in the Class before me at College,1
having officiated at the Meeting house, dined with Mr. Brooks. The rising of young men who were with me at College, around here, puts me strongly in mind of the advance in life which we are all making. Indeed it is striking to perceive the change which has occurred since I left Cambridge not yet a graduate. In the afternoon I sat with Abby, and in the evening Mrs. Tufts of Weymouth, of whom I have spoken once before, drank tea here. On the whole I believe I am now as happy as I ever shall be. My thoughts sometimes trouble me but I have nothing more serious and my hopes
are gaining the upper hand. Besides I am in love and that is poetry itself.