Morning bright and exhibiting all the beauty of Winter commencing. With us this Autumnal Season is the finest in the year. It braces and enlivens. At the Office as usual where I consumed an hour in looking over New’s Papers and destroying them by hundreds. I then read a little of Mr. Meisel upon the diplomacy of Europe, and spent an hour in Accounts. But on the whole my Morning cannot be said to have been profitably used.

Returned home and occupied myself in the Afternoon though with some interruptions upon Cicero de Oratore. I was surprised to find that I could ever have passed over this book so utterly unconscious of it’s worth. The recommendations it contains, the advice it gives, and the example it sets, have all been lost upon me until now. And every day now puts me in mind how much time has passed, that the season for action has come and I am barely opening the preparation. These thoughts and feelings discourage me, they throw a damp over my power of exertion which is I am afraid ominous of the result to take place. But I will persevere in my present course if for nothing else, at least for the pleasure the knowledge gives me.

Evening, Corinne with my Wife. After which Edward Brooks came 351in and sat an hour very pleasantly indeed. I finished afterwards the first book of Paradise Lost, and read two Numbers of the Tatler.