Morning pleasant. Went to the Office as usual and occupied my time upon the German Grammar, upon which I made some progress. I think I have now got far enough properly to begin to read but I am stopped by not possessing any elementary work. This will drive me to reviewing my Grammar again and perhaps this exercise will not hurt me in the end. The verbs are tolerably easy, much the larger proportion of them being regular.

I wrote a letter to my father,1 called to see Mr. Brooks, and went to read an article which appeared this morning in the Gazette against my Father. It was abusive enough, and after reflection the only source to which I could attribute it was Jonathan Russel, whose grief time has done nothing to alleviate.2 I considered whether any notice should be taken of it, but reflected on the whole that it would not be advisable. Took my Walk.

After dinner, I read Cicero de Oratore, and completed the review of what I had read until the Wit which I was able to comprehend as little as ever. I must seek a Translation. In the Evening Corinne as usual. I then read over the seventh book of Paradise Lost, and part of the eighth. Finished by a little of Mr. Drake and two Numbers of the Tatler.