The day was bright and absolutely cold making a singular change from the past. I rode to town as usual and spent my morning pretty quietly at my Office. Nothing of any consequence happened. I had several calls. One from a man presenting a Draught upon T. B. Adams, for his Son J.Q.A. Jr. which I paid. One from Mr. Ayer the 75Carpenter about Repairs. Having finished these, I read a part of the Ami des Hommes, which appears to contain some good things.

Returned to Quincy with another Horse. My luck this Season has not been good with them. Afternoon, read the thirteenth Philippic of Cicero, upon the letter of Antony to Hirtius and Caesar, and upon the course of Lepidus. This is peculiar as being Criticism, Paragraph by paragraph, sharpened by the venom of political and personal hatred. Cicero affords examples of the varieties of invective and perhaps it is well for a man to have them as studies. But I do not fancy the strain. It is degrading to the character of human nature. Evening at home. I resumed Baron Grimm and read the Spectator.