The morning was cloudy and damp, and I did not reach my Office until it was quite late. Indeed this practice of mine is bad, and ought to be corrected. I passed my morning much as usual—Not doing so much as I wished but having no moment unemployed. My spirits were rather depressed, owing to the constant struggle I am obliged to keep up to be at all Master of my own time. I confess I am disappointed in this. For one of the great reasons which had impelled me to urge so strongly the accomplishing my marriage, was the entire 114dissipation of time in which my engagement kept me. And now the same action in another form operates. Mrs. Brooks is anxious to see her daughter and to have her spend not hours but days and nights with her, and I am therefore under a pressure to avoid doing it. For they see only what I appear to be compelled to do, and judge from that, my time to be at my own disposal. I feel all this, and yet I feel more strongly what I believe to be a more urgent duty—That of fitting myself for all situations in life to which I may be called.

I read Williston this morning, the Speeches on the British Treaty.1 They all want power, they need that force which is essential to Eloquence, that clearness which gives it power. I also prepared my Quarterly Account for my Father’s inspection. It is long though tolerably clear. After dinner, I was engaged in reading Aeschines which I enjoyed very considerably. The Greek is far from difficult, and I find some reason to flatter myself for the knowledge which I picked up at College, much more firmly than I had myself supposed. How delightful are these occupations. I read to my Wife, Clarissa Harlowe, my progress in this is slow, and I feel desirous now to get through it, to attempt something pleasanter and better. After she retired, I seized an hour to continue an Article upon Eloquence which upon reflection does not please me a bit better than any of the rest.