Morning cloudy with a chilly air. At the Office as usual and for once without interruption and without particular business. Received a letter from my Father containing the Deed of the Boylston Estate to Gleason, and a Power of Attorney to me to appear and vote about the affairs of the Boylston Market.1 He expresses satisfaction at my manner of proceeding, which is all that I can possibly desire. I then went to see Mr. Brooks, first however going to return two visits—One to Mr. Trueman and one to Genl. Lyman which were due long ago.2 This being off my mind, I felt much better. Mr. Brooks said, his wife was a little better, but the physicians discouraged him by giving no hopes of a recovery. I have long foreseen this, though it is a most melancholy thing to think of. For his family are scattered to the winds immediately upon it. There is no more of that kind of union which has heretofore so strongly prevailed.

I passed the remainder of the morning in reading Williston, and was much pleased with the Speeches this morning, on the Embargo.3 There is much animation in them. They read better. The afternoon was passed in finishing the Wasps of Aristophanes of which Mitchell has made two pieces. They might well be so for all the connection they have with each other. I then read Brumoy’s version of the same pieces and after reading the Edinburgh and Quarterly Review I believe I shall have established a tolerable knowledge of the Old Comedy of the Greeks.4 I regret however that Mitchell did not himself translate the Clouds, for Cumberland whom he has followed though correct is a little tame. He gives one no definite idea of the peculiar character of the Poet. Brumoy is good in his criticism though Mitchell has transferred much of the valuable matter to his Notes. Read to Abby in Clarissa which on 145this evening was very interesting. It snowed violently during the afternoon.