Morning clear with a North West wind but milder than it has been. I went to the Office as usual. Received a letter from my Mother1 of a tenor rather more encouraging than heretofore. My father has nearly recovered from his sickness, and all the family are better excepting the children. I read Sir James Mackintosh, and had one or two interruptions from applicants for the empty house. Called on T. Davis and Blake to ask them to dine with me tomorrow. I was then engaged on one or two Commissions. Thus passed the morning, terminated as it usually is by a walk.

After dinner Anquetil and the intrigues of Cardinal de Retz. Evening read at home, Caroline de Litchfield until nine, when my Wife and I went to a party at Mrs. A. H. Everett’s.2 A great many there and a very mixed assemblage. Few whom I ever knew. I endeavoured to 26make my bow to every body whom I did know. And to find something or other to say, but it is hard work. Mr. Gannett speaks the truth. The conversation of an evening party is disgraceful to intelligent beings. Returned home late and read the World.