Mild, agreeable weather. I received a short Note from my brother at Washington, though without any thing material in it.1 My day was wasted in dancing attendance at an Auction where after all I bought nothing. Perhaps there is no greater waste of time than this. Mr. Alfred Welles an importing Jeweller was selling part of his Stock, and although the cry is so loud of hard times, I should hardly imagine it had much foundation if I was to judge from the sales here. Not that there was no sacrifice, but it was not greater than usually happens. At the Office only for a short time. Nothing else material. Afternoon quietly at home. Lord Bacon and Terence. Evening, Adam Smith and Patronage aloud. Nothing particular.