Morning clear, but still having much in it of the East Wind. I went to the Office as usual and read Graham without interruption during the morning so that I progressed very rapidly indeed. One reading however will hardly be sufficient. And much reflection and reconsideration will be necessary to form any thing like an agreeable production, or even a sensible one. The task I have undertaken too is a hard one and perhaps at this stage almost sure to fail. But then it has much ingenuity to recommend it.

My mornings now pass very quietly and without disturbance. The afternoon was spent in writing and that very steadily though as usual very much dissatisfied with my first draft. To write is easy, to write well is the hardest of all things. I have nearly finished my first sketch which is rough enough. This evening, being invited to Mr. Frothingham’s I walked down and passed the Evening. Nobody but Chardon besides my wife and myself. Tolerably pleasant, but I took too much supper.