Morning at the Office. And in Court. Heard a case argued of little importance and without affording much instruction. But it is still of service to me to be here as it makes me familiar with practice and with men. Conversation for an hour, with George. Afternoon, finished Smith’s Chapter on the Colonies as a system of policy. Evening at the Theatre. Rob Roy and the Quartette, pieces of very little merit. Madame Feron1 —not pleased with her style of singing. Too artificial. I like art and execution but not alone. It drowns the natural effect of simple sounds when produced incessantly. She did not sing the Soldier 349Tir’d so well as Mrs. Austin. But her voice is sweeter, and her low notes are much more clear and effective. On the whole, not well satisfied particularly as I breasted the heaviest snow storm we have had this winter, on my return. This exertion and a heavy fall which I had put me a little out of spirits.