This was a severely cold morning. The winter has now set in with all vigour. We have snow as an alternation from intense cold. I attended divine service and heard Mr. Frothingham preach upon the subject of regeneration. I did not feel interested in the Sermon from the chill my feet had experienced from walking over the frozen ground. Heard of Abby’s brother Edward having a daughter yesterday.1 Returned home, and decided that it was not worthwhile to expose one’s self to suffering for the mere possibility of hearing uncomfortably.

I read Middleton’s Life of Cicero, in which my progress was considerable. This day is the only one in which I progress in that book and in Mr. Drake’s. I also wrote to my Mother a long letter, to answer for the Winter.2 Evening a visit from Mr. Tarbell, after which Vossius and the Tatler.