Morning to town accompanied by Abby. Called in passing upon Mr. Stetson to inquire of whom it would be necessary to obtain a
certificate after the publishment of the banns. This thing must be done directly. At the Office, my boy out of the way so much that I turned him off, though with regret. At the house saw Abby but my bookcases not finished yet.
Assorted more of George’s letters and in the afternoon, read his letters to Mary C. Hellen during their engagement, which was the flower of his life. Affectionate enough but rather seldom. Written once a month or so when I wrote twice a week to Abby. This was the mistake he made for he suffered her affection, at all times volatile, to become perfectly cool.
Engaged the remainder of the afternoon in putting up my books in their cases. I doubt whether those yet put up will contain one half of them. Thus it was nearly seven before I left town. Evening at Quincy. Conversation with my father. Family affairs. Old History. I forgot to mention that I took order to have myself published in Boston and wrote to Medford to Mr. Bartlett, town Clerk, to do the same.1
Evening cool after a warm day.