Astonishing weather. No frosts and the air like April. I went to the Office. My time is very much taken up by accounts. My father’s collections come in with amazing slowness, and I make up as I go both from his and mine.

In consequence of conversation last night I read the North American Review upon Mrs. Trollope. Good but as Mr. Frothingham said very coarse. I think unnecessarily so.1 I am getting tired of censuring however. I feel more and more that in this world it is more easy to censure than to praise, that every person involves himself in cases where a 4double construction of his conduct can be admitted and therefore that a man should do to others as he would that others should do unto him.

Took a walk. Afternoon, I wrote more of Anti Masonry. Decided upon withdrawing my Article for the North American Review and wrote a Note to Mr. Everett to that effect.2 That is one step. Went to the Theatre, with Gorham Brooks and his Wife. Opera of Massaniello. Music of Auber. Some pretty things but in general too noisy. Sinclair very good in a Barcarolle and leading a Chorus. One or two other Choruses also well got up. I came home on the whole very much pleased. Miss Hughes not so good. There is much of the Melodrame about the piece. On the whole, good.3