Fine day but cool. I went to the Office, but was not very industrious. Read the National Intelligencer for the Debates and was somewhat surprised at Mr. Webster’s tone which intimates pretty decidedly a refusal to adjourn during the present unsettled state of the times.1 Of course, this will make us a summer residence here—A thing hitherto untried.

Mr. Walsh came in and consumed some time. He is lengthy when he comes. Walk. Afternoon, Benjamin Constant, but he did not interest me. Continued Terence’s Phormio, to the last Act. Evening quiet at home, which is agreeable as a variety from the past. Ennui and conversation. Afterwards I read German.