It had been the intention for us to go to Medford and pass the Sunday, but we had not arisen more than an hour before a violent snow Storm set in from the North East and continued throughout the day. I went to the Office and was busy first in my usual affairs and afterwards in writing my weekly letter to my father.1 This and Conversation with Mr. Peabody occupied me until time to return home.

The Storm was such as not to allow of a fire in my Study. I therefore pursued my occupation of copying my letter at home. After which I went on with Middleton’s Life of Cicero. It does not meet my wants exactly as it contains only a sketch of his Actions and the History of the Period. This is interesting and valuable but not what I most need which is a Critique upon his Works.

In the evening French and the account of Spain to my Wife which is more and more pleasant as I go on. After which, for the first time, an uninterrupted space in which to read the North American Review, Article Hieroglyphics,2 and the Tatler.