Morning dark and cloudy. Went to the Office as usual. But felt exceedingly dull and depressed all day. My father’s business weighs upon my mind and in addition to this more troubles come upon me every day. Dr. Storer called upon me today about that old affair of Farmer’s. It seems this man has sued him for defamation of character, as some time in the Spring he wrote a letter, imprudent and silly enough to be sure.1 He came to me to inquire of me whether I would see his Counsel, Mr. Fletcher. I am glad this gentleman has been selected for the purpose,2 though I am deeply grieved that the whole affair has happened. What the development may be is impossible to say, and all of it through the folly of this young man. His imprudence always precipitates him into scrapes.

My Uncle Judge Adams called in to see me and interrupted us. He came to inquire about money and I was obliged to tell him I was as poor as a rat. This is true now and likely to be true hereafter. I do not admire present appearances. After seeing Mr. Brooks as usual, and going to make a purchase of some Coal, I had time to sit down and read one or two of Williston’s Selections in his fifth volume. They were Orations on the famous Boston Massacre by Warren and Hancock,3 and I cannot say that they were great models for imitation, being extremely turgid and in false taste. There certainly has been an improvement in our productions in this Country. More solid matter and less wind, though even now there is enough.

Dined at Chardon Brooks’ with my wife. Time pleasant. Afternoon at home, reading Demosthenes in which I made good progress. But how superficial is merely a single examination of such an author. In the evening I read to my Wife the first half of Sheridan’s Comedy of the School for Scandal and was amused as usual with it’s wit. If any thing the replies have too much point to be natural. Walker’s Rhetorical Grammar.