Cooler but still unusually mild. I went to the Office and from thence to the Theatre to obtain Tickets of admission for tonight but without success. The Bostonians are always in a fever when they are not in Ice. They will give five dollars to see an Actor or Actress in January and in March if she comes again they will desert her unanimously.

I returned to the Office and finished my No. 3 upon Mr. Webster’s prospects which I carried to the Press. The arguments developed in that paper strike me as perfectly unanswerable. Yet the greatest good fortune that could happen to my prospects would be that they should pass off unrecognized and unnoticed.

Walk but not so long as usual. The Child Louisa appeared to droop a good deal today. This always makes me anxious and I have felt in other respects very low spirited. It has been a misfortune to me that I did not live at home this winter. I there felt called upon to make exertion and maintain a station in Society. Ovid, but I have got tired of the learned Frenchman.

Afternoon, looking over Miscellaneous papers of no consequence. My Grandfather kept even Notes of Invitation. Evening, read to my Wife from the Correspondence of Hannah More.1 Rather interesting from the Company she kept, but a leetle too much blueism.2 I continued tonight Götz von Berlichingen.