It was a tolerably pleasant day today and might justify some calculation upon the season. I went to the Office and then my usual round to the House where the people were at work. The progress is now becoming visible. I yet find the sense of care in assuming a household press heavily upon me notwithstanding my comfort in the idea of more complete independence.

At Office Mr. Walsh there a little while, the remainder of the time spent in making up Diary and Accounts. Time on the whole not very well spent. Walk and home where I read Landor’s Imaginary Conversations. I take up these from noticing a flattering recommendation of them in Mr. Taylor’s Notes to Philip van Artevelde. This is not unmingled with criticism and I am the more led to conclude the book worth reading. There is some reflection in it.

After dinner Thiers—Charlotte Corday, Marat, and the energy of the French Revolution. The career of Bonaparte is not so wonderful when you perceive the materials which were prepared for him. Carnot and Robespierre, Danton and Barere were the real foundations of his fortune. Evening quiet at home. Goethe. Kunst und Alterthum, a sort of desultory notice of subjects of Fine Arts in Germany. I particularly notice some remarks upon the fashion of exalting the older class of Painting.