The day opened cloudy and soon settled into a regular rain. My 342Mother however finished her visit which has been a pleasant one to me, and returned to Quincy. I went to the Office and was surprised to find upon reaching there that the whole of the lower Staircase of the building in Court Street was removed by the Tenant of the Store, in order to substitute a new one more narrow and interfering less with his premises. The Communication with my office was by a ladder and once up, it was rather a difficult matter to get down. I mounted and spent my time in writing a political Article to send to Mr. Buckingham the Editor of the Courier. This is a singular choice on my part but it arises from the fact that he is the friend of the principles I peculiarly support.1

Returned home, where it appeared lonely after having had a house full. I read Cicero as usual and examined his method of dividing all questions which narrow the space of thought very much to the points in question in a case. This methodizing of thought is a great thing for a speaker. Evening, reading Symmons life of Milton and hammering out a new idea for another Number. But I feel exceedingly discouraged. My spirits have not got over the effect of Mr. Everett’s course.