Morning very fine. I remained at home today, and Completed the draught of the attempt I am now making. It has occupied me earnestly but continually for a week or fortnight, and it has led me to observe more closely the facts connected with the English History. I think I never before saw so clearly the demerits of Mr. Hume, nor so forcibly the real difficulties which followed the Revolution of 1640. These kind of researches are pleasant and profitable. They make learning appear less barren of good, and they fix the quantity of it. For the memory takes easier what has cost it a little unusual labour.

Not having any thing further to do, in the afternoon resumed Seneca and read part of the third book De Ira. As usual, a compound of wisdom and error. The checks to anger are wisely given. Yet by a species of syllogism he attempts to evade the maxim of Aristotle which is after all true in the main. Anger can give no strength. Anger is a kind of disease. Disease always weakens. Then anger weakens. Not remembering that the sick man can sometimes do an act which he never could have accomplished in health. Had he said continued strength, it might have been questioned, but with less reason. Evening, a long ride with my Wife. We lost our way and reached the Woods. Returned home safe and quiet.