Morning clear and fine. I went to the Office as usual. Then to the Athenaeum for the purpose of getting some more of the volumes of Lingard. This took some time. I then went down to take up a Note of my father’s and renew it paying the Interest. These various operations kept me so long that I had very little time to devote to my regular reading. Our days have now reached their shortest. And I hope my industry will increase as they will, in future. Under a depression of spirits which I can not understand and which is unworthy of me, I am likely to suffer time to pass without due improvement. The hope of being useful has stimulated me heretofore and under it the six weeks elapsed since my return home have been much improved. But I have been considerably disappointed in my success. I probably expected too much. Took a walk.

Afternoon, did not write a word. Continued Villemain. I find no reason to change my opinion. A superficial translation of Hume, varied occasionally by extracts from the party Memoirs of the period without any discrimination in regard to the weight of the evidence he uses. I am surprised at M. Villemain.

Evening, my Wife had company. Her brothers Henry and Gorham, with his Wife, Miss Carter and Miss Gorham with her brother. It was a little stiff, no very animated conversation. I read no German.