A lovely day. I began reading Vasari’s Works this morning which I have lately purchased. The Italian of this is tolerably easy. Went to the Office but wasted my time having forgotten to bring with me the next volume of Gibbon. My progress was therefore stopped. I amused myself in looking over the old Journals of my brother George which give a kind of melancholy picture of the past to me whenever I take them up. But so it is. Our days were deceitful ones then. The adversity which we have experienced has been a very fortunate thing for me who was young enough to be able to avail of the lesson. I have never yet known any thing that has happened to me which I thought at the time a misfortune not turn out in the end a very advantageous thing. Returned to my House.

Afternoon passed in reading Sismondi’s Account of Clovis which is pretty good, but very dry. The history has nothing agreeable in it’s details. Murder, Robbery and Violence form the monotony of the pages. Evening at home. I finished the publication upon France in the Useful Knowledge books1 and read a little of Paley.