ashed breakfast things, cleared the table, walked, read Spinoza a little, then had to fly round, as my dinner was an early one.
Picked a grouse, and saw to various matters.
Company came, a little early.
The room was cold.
Hedge, Palfrey, and Alger to dinner.
Conversation pleasant, but dinner late, and not well served.
Palfrey and Hedge read Parker's Latin epitaph on Chev, amazed at the bad Latinity.
In June, 1864, a Russian squadron, sent to show Russia's good — will toward the United States, dropped anchor in Boston Harbor, and hospitable Boston rose up in haste to receive the strangers.
Dr. Holmes wrote a song beginning,--
Seabirds of Muscovy, Rest in our waters, which was sung to the Russian national air at a public reception.
Our mother for once made no little verse, but she saw a good deal of the Russian officers; gave parties for them, and attended various functions and festivities on board the ships.
On Sunday, June 22, she writes:--
To mass on board the Os