Nothing but rain. I went to the Office and was busy in digesting matter for the discussion at the Debating Society this evening. I wrote out the whole and arranged it in my mind in a fit manner for delivery. This cost me some labour but I hope it will benefit me inasmuch as I shall be better able to rely upon my strength on any occasion that may come up suddenly. Having a little head ach, I was driven to my usual walk to remove it notwithstanding the badness of the weather. Returning home, found my Wife quite unwell, and I therefore sat in her room and read Cicero as well as I could, during the Afternoon. But my progress was not perfectly satisfactory. I am so sensible of the influence of situation in reading, that when I am out of my study nothing seems to go well. I did not much more than half understand what I did read, and read only half the usual quantity.

In the evening I went through the rain to hear the Debate, found about twelve present and had a pretty sensible course of reasoning, for it is not debate, there is not warmth enough. On my return, finished the fourth book of Paradise Lost and reviewed a portion of it, and read two Numbers of the Tatler.