Passed an hour with Abby previous to my return to town, pleasantly enough. The day
was fair and I came in pretty rapidly. Morning at the Office, writing a letter to
my Aunt Smith in reply to one received from her on Saturday.1
Afternoon, engaged in reading Adam Smith but my attention was not fixed to it. So
that I gained little. In the evening, Mirabeau, Cour de Berlin, not interesting at
all. I felt heavy, and apathetical, if there is such a word. I suspect, a little bilious,
for this was my condition last Spring.