Morning cloudy but more mild. The season is not by any means settled. We all attended Divine Service morning and afternoon and heard Mr. Stetson preach upon the fashion of sudden religious conversions. Sensible but wearisome. The whole day passed with no peculiarity to mark it. No stranger visited, and I read but little. This is not a life best calculated to advance me in the path I feel so ambitious to pursue yet what can be done? I am not my own master, and circumstances will always obtain a control over the best formed resolutions. The evening went. I finished the Quarterly and nearly all of the Edinburgh Review for the last Quarter. Good but not remarkable, excepting the leading Article in the former upon the Peerage.