Morning to town. Weather quite warm. After spending a short time at the Office, I went up with Baxter, the Waggoner, and assisted him in transporting the remaining Articles of Furniture from the House at Dr. Welsh’s. The Book Cases were rather heavy but we got them down by the assistance of a hand cartman. And at last I saw the end of that business which had been hanging upon my mind heavily for some time. At last George’s room bears no marks of his residence, and in a short time the changes of life will have nearly effaced his memory from the globe. Such is our final existence and such our end. Moralizing ceases to produce it’s effect for the lesson is too extensively spread.

This took up nearly all of my morning so that as I had decided that I would dine at Quincy today, I was compelled to start forthwith, merely asking first how Mrs. Brooks was and found her sick, as ever. My ride was warm but not unpleasant. Found the family at dinner but Louisa C. Smith too unwell to come down. Thomas dined with us. Afterwards, we took a bath, which I enjoyed exceedingly, but found myself much fatigued in the evening. So as not to enjoy my father’s conversation from drowsiness. He was upon the History of America too.