The morning was clear and only cool. I went to the Office as usual after a little progress upon my Catalogue. My time was taken up in making up my Accounts, and writing, so that as usual I could devote very little to my German. Mr. Welsh and I settled Accounts today, which finishes the last outstanding balance upon this Estate of my father’s.1 The more I see of all that is to be done upon these Estates, the more I am satisfied that what has heretofore been done has not been managed correctly. There is rarely any occasion with Tenants, for Arrears, if they can pay when they are asked, they will.2 If not, they ought to make arrangements which should satisfy you or move. In my walk, I passed the Estate in Tremont Street and went in to see what was doing. I found that infinitely more had been done than I anticipated and I tremble at the accounts which are in prospect.

Took my usual walk and in the afternoon, read Cicero as usual. I got through his account of Wit, which is difficult enough and hardly pays one for the reading. Great assistance is to be experienced from the Copy by Olivet which contains the Commentaries.3 As Abby had gone out of town, I spent an hour and a half at the Athenaeum. Finished the evening with the first half of the ninth book of Paradise Lost and two Numbers of the Tatler.