Morning at the Office. Weather mild and pleasant. I was at the Office and spent a large part of the time reading Webster’s Speech which should have been occupied in my duties. But it had just arrived and was so fascinating that I could not resist it. It is a fine effort upon a subject in itself rather hard. For a mere resolution of inquiry is not and has seldom been considered a matter to talk much about. The Speech itself is one upon a small subject, defence from attacks upon sectional differences. It has nothing to recommend it of the great views and enlarged purposes of a real Statesman. It is a quarrel about small things.1 I had no great time however to think of it for I was obliged to copy my Letter to my father and I had a long interruption from Mr. Whitney, whom I had sent for to converse upon the debt he owes me. Our conversation was earnest and I made him liberal propositions until I thought I could go no farther, but he was stubborn and would not give me more than three hundred dollars, which was altogether too little, so we parted. Mr. Ayer came to tell me, he should leave his Store, but he said he had a Tenant who was ready to take his place at a higher rent.2 I told him that under those conditions I was willing to let it go.

I was excessively hurried to finish my Letter, because my Wife had engaged to go out of town in her father’s carriage rather earlier than was convenient to me. But I got through at last, and returned home, where I found my Wife and we rode to Medford with Mrs. Hall. Nothing remarkable took place. I found Mr. Brooks rather dull and heavy, and unable to keep up his spirits, but we tried to talk to him. Chardon came out in the afternoon, and we did as well as we could in conversation until night. But the loss to Mr. Brooks is sensible every hour of his time. His home is not now what it was, but far otherwise.