The coldest morning we have yet experienced. This may be considered as a truly bitter winter. I went to Market to obtain some things I especially needed and then returned to my Office to finish my Journal and read my usual portion of Enfield. But I am less interested in the result of the Philosophers of the particular time I am now about. The Account of Seneca is yet worthy of great attention.

I went down to the Athenaeum for my Wife and then took a short walk but it was so cold there was no comfort in it. Returned home and passed my Afternoon in beginning upon the Orations of Cicero, a 406much pleasanter field. I took up the Oration for P. Quintius, which I found easy though upon an intimate question of private Law. I could not account for my understanding it so readily until I remembered I had read it when I first came to Boston though the name had escaped me.1 It is a wonderful production as a first specimen of a young man’s powers. It shows how strong he felt upon his past education.

Evening, French and the book upon Spain to my Wife who appeared quite unwell. After which more of Vossius and two numbers of the Tatler.