Cloudy day and cold. Went to the Office as usual and was occupied for some time in reading and writing. One or two persons came in—Mr. Degrand and others on business, but I had on the whole a remarkably quiet time.

Took my usual walk. Afternoon writing a letter to my father, which I was engaged also in copying, a task of considerable fatigue.1 My Wife had some of her friends to tea and pass the evening—Miss Julia Gorham, Miss Carter2 and Miss Sarah Tilden.

I procured Mackintosh’s Progress of Ethical Philosophy from the Athenaeum and was much interested in the charming style which distinguishes it.3 I also find a great subject opened before me, the nature and value of which I had very little idea of until lately. It must be extensively explored before I write again upon any subject.