Morning at the Office. Occupied in writing a letter to my father. Received one from him of a peculiar character. It treats of the political history of the late Session of Congress in a masterly and pointed manner.1 Did nothing else this morning. In the afternoon copied Executive Record and read Burke’s Speech on conciliation with the Colonies. It rained as if we had not seen any before for a long time. In the evening I went to the Theatre, and saw performed Shakespear’s Twelfth Night in a most shocking manner. The orchestra was uncommonly large and the music to Der Freyschutz,2 the afterpiece, was remarkably well performed. I never saw this piece before. The Story is strictly German with all a complication of horrors, but it requires more excellent stage management than ours to make it go off properly. The performance lasted so long that it was long after midnight before I got home.