As this was the day fixed for us to begin opening our own house, I was very much occupied in attending to the various details necessary for the purpose. It is now a year since I have had cares of this kind, and so far as a relief from them is concerned it has been agreeable. But on the other hand there are a great many advantages in the independence and ease of one’s own dwelling which far more than balance the account. The present appearance of every thing is discouraging but I hope that the labour of two or three persons for a couple of weeks will set matters to right. After doing all that I could, I returned to the Office.

Nothing material. Diary. Walk and home. Continued Tasso. Afternoon, M. Thiers and Sir Egerton Brydges. This is a disappointed Author—A man who has written too much to have been sufficiently nice about it’s perfection, and whose indolence has mastered his ambition and made him push his fault into a virtue. Yet he describes himself accurately and so very naturally that I cannot help sympathy1 even with his foibles. Evening at home.