Morning fine and clear. I went to the Office but did not remain long as I intended going to the sale of Engravings. Perhaps it would have been better for me if I had been prevented, but it consumed my whole morning and a considerable sum of money besides. But my purchases though luxuries are cheap, to any one who can afford them. The most valuable was a large Collection of landscapes of Rubens, Claude, Gaspar Poussin, Rembrandt, Salvator Rosa and one other which I gave 35 cents each for. How can I who am poor pay for all these things? A love of the fine Arts, though it is a real pleasure which others who have it not are therefore so much the less happy, is yet a dear thing.

Returned home. Afternoon taken up in reading part of the fourth book de Finibus or the refutation of the Stoic doctrine, part of which is as obscure as the doctrine itself. Evening quiet at home. My Wife wrote to my Mother1 and I read Sir Joshua Reynolds. Then, the Spectator.