Another day of extreme heat terminated by a flurry accompanied with a very little rain. I remained at home and was very busily occupied in writing off the correspondence of my Grandmother with Mr. Jefferson in 1804.1 Letters of great power and in a tone and temper which are exceedingly creditable to her. Mr. Jefferson has rather the worst side of the argument although such as it is, he maintains it stoutly.

I read two long and beautiful Odes of Horace and in the Afternoon went through a considerable number of old papers. This was my afternoon’s work. Went down and took a short bath, but was hurried away by the blackness of the surrounding clouds. Dipped into the fourth volume of Prince Puckler Muskau—A curious book, somewhat entertaining and graphic in respect to the present manners of the British nobility. Luxury seems to have crept over the nation—And present appearances seem to indicate another example of the uniform course which takes place with empires.

Mr. Beale was here in the evening for an hour but had nothing new. The night was sultry.