A very wet, dirty day. I went to the Office but did not succeed in effecting much. As I had no other volume of Lingard at my room, I was obliged to go to the Athenaeum for one, and this excursion led me to examine the Newspapers there until I had no farther time for any thing. Took my usual walk. Afternoon somewhat wasted. Mrs. Angier dined with us and went away directly afterwards. I tried to 16write a little of my Article but the vein was not in me. It is a little singular how unequally I feel in this respect. Sometimes my pen flows easily, at others it drags as if it was loaded with lead.

Evening, went to the Theatre, in company with Mr. and Mrs. Miller, Mrs. Angier and others. The Tempest adapted to Purcell’s music, and a Pageant in honour of Walter Scott. Mrs. Austin as Ariel with Mr. Horn for Ferdinand. The music is simple, light and airy. The duett at the close of the second Act was pretty and the Chorus tolerable. But the play is dreadfully mangled to suit to the Stage, and it went off heavily. As to the other thing, it was a miserable affair.1 We went home very much disappointed.