Hazy and clouds. A few drops of rain from time to time but it cleared away in the evening. Office, where I was not regularly occupied 274but still managed to make a little progress in the Annual Register. Went home and passed much time in making up a party to go to the Theatre. But failed in the party though I got tickets for myself and wife. There is always much vexation in getting any thing which depends upon others, to take. I never did any thing of the sort without cause to regret it.

Walk. Afternoon copied a letter to my father which I wrote yesterday,1 and read a part of the Hecyra of Terence. After tea went to the Theatre, accompanied by my wife and the two Frothingham boys—Mr. Power in Ettiquette run Mad and Born to good Luck. The first piece by himself. His genuine humor was visible most clearly in the latter, but I came away sated with laughing and Hibernianism. It is not an amusement which with me would endure as there is little variety in the humour and no wit. An Irishman is after all a very ordinary body. The Actor inclines too much to gentility too, and his Paddy o’Rafferty changes too easily from a rough Kilkenny boy to a Neapolitan Marquis. His dancing especially belied his brogue. Returned after ten.