Fine morning. I went to the Office and was occupied part of my time in Accounts and part of it in reading Mr. Jefferson’s Letters, then I went to the Athenaeum where I wasted time in looking over the Athenaeum Newspapers and English Periodicals. They have little in them that is not flimsy and yet they amuse me.

Walk. Afternoon at home. Benjamin Constant and Cicero. Finished the second Tusculan Disputation.

In the evening, my wife and I went again to the Theatre. The Gamester1—Mr. Beverley by Mr. Kemble, Mrs. Beverley by his daughter. The tragedy is of the most gloomy description. An amiable but weak man led on to his own destruction by the arts of a treacherous friend who works upon his passion for gaming, first to enrich himself, next, to seduce the Wife. The performance was good. He certainly suited me better than Cooper in the same part.2 After piece “Turning the Tables.” Home rather late.