Morning clear, and mild enough rapidly to dispel the snow which had only fallen to vanish. I went to the Office and occupied myself as usual, in reading Williston, and in arranging the accounts of my Father and bringing them down to the present time. The result of the Quarter is yet doubtful, but things look better than they did. I may scrape through. If I do, I shall be entitled to more credit than from the ignorance of the circumstances I shall probably get, and should the affair of Whitney be once settled, I shall feel easy in my mind.

I read today Mr. Webster’s Eulogy of the two Presidents.1 It is good, but rather overlong. In all addresses, the great art is to be short. And though here it required time to do justice to the subject yet it inevitably makes it tedious. Deacon Spear called to know my father’s decision, which I could not give him. I talked a little with him and agreed to let him know what should be done. My other interruptions were few and of little or no consequence. I called to see Mr. Brooks and went down to look at a Dictionary of Natural History which I had a great mind to buy,2 but on reflection what good can books do to me, the Money is worth more to all intents and purposes. Returned home and passed the afternoon reading Demosthenes, as usual, though the Oration for the Crown is rapidly coming to an End. I am glad of it for on the whole, it has consumed quite time enough.

The evening was passed with Abby, in reading Lalla Rookh aloud, the story of the Fire Worshippers. It is on the whole the best in the work. Though I cannot say I am partial to the broken metre which is used throughout. It is hard to read, and harder to understand. Occupied afterwards upon Campbell’s Rhetoric. Strictures upon style, which are for the most part good, but time has operated a change in many respects even since he wrote.