Morning cold with a little flight of snow in the Night. I went to the Office as usual where I was busy in writing and reading the Life of Sheridan in which I made great progress. The Account of his decline is hurried over and excused as much as possible but after all it is bad enough. Nothing material took place. I took a short walk and returned home.

Afternoon finished the third Tusculan of Cicero. In the Evening Mr. Brooks came in and sat a couple of hours very pleasantly. After which I began reading Pope’s translation of Homers Iliad.1 And the Spectator as usual.