A cold morning again. I went to the Office. Nothing very material. I was in part of the time engaged in Accounts, and called to see Miss Oliver about her rent. She subsequently came in and paid me.

The town was in a state of agitation from a report of an attempt to assassinate General Jackson-As he was coming down the Capitol steps at Washington from the funeral of Warren R. Davis of S. Carolina, a member of the House of Representatives, a man by the name of Lawrence presented a pistol and it snapped after which he presented another and it did the same. I do not know what to make of this incident. At first I thought of it simply as a wonderful preservation. It afterwards occurred to me there might be jugglery. We must judge the tree by its fruits.

Walk and home. Ovid. Afternoon, I continue upon the papers but more deliberately as I approach the end. Read the Quarterly Review. Evening. Mr. and Mrs. Frothingham came in so that I passed in amusing conversation.1