Morning at home, but instead of going to ride with my Mother, I took a walk today.
Went to see the Solar Microscope which is exhibiting here.1
The room was suffocatingly hot, and it was not worth seeing after the philosophical
lecture of Mr. Farrar at Cambridge. I was glad to escape and call in at Johnson’s
Office to see him. He was full of his Carpenters and building. So is my brother John.
This latter gentleman seems to be making up his mind to remain here. This is certainly
better for me, and it may be so for himself. Of this he ought to be and is the Judge.
My own views must be different if I live. But I have again terrible spirits, about
myself, which have not worried me before since the Spring. Took a walk, and on my
return, read a part of Burke’s Essay on the sublime and Beautiful. Evening with the