The Weather is now a pretty steady general cold, and for Winter is on the whole not bad, though I am longing for the return of the more moderate Season. I went to the Office and attended to my affairs as usual, reading the second Volume of Enfield. But I was again interrupted by an unwelcome Note from the Misses Haskins informing me that my Tenant Mr. Spear had quitted the House he occupied and left them as they were before. I went up directly and found the thing exactly as I feared, not at all to my gratification. Heard of the death of poor old Dr. Welsh, and took it a little to my conscience that I had neglected to go and see him. Poor old Man, his last days were passed in loneliness and poverty,1 and I felt when thinking of him an indescribable kind of melancholy, which seemed hardly to be justified by the occasion. Mr. Vezey the Carpenter at Quincy, came in and I 419talked with him about the Stone Posts at Quincy which I agreed to have done provided it did not exceed a certain price. But the whole subject was postponed until the Spring. Thus passed the Morning.

Afternoon spent in reading Cicero’s second against Verres in which I did not make much progress owing to its difficulty. Evening, French. Read to my Wife from the Tragedy of Douglas.2 Not much pleased. It is a little singular I never read this before. After this, the Latin Grammar and the Tatler.