Morning cold but clear. I tried to commit about forty lines of Pope this morning but failed to do it perfectly. The Newspaper of the morning contains a call signed by several hundred persons for a meeting on Thursday in favour of Mr. Webster. The popular feeling here is decidedly in his favour and will sacrifice any opponent. Yet I have under-144taken to put myself into the breach. I trust in a higher power and do my duty.

On returning home from my walk with Louisa I found Mr. Davis1 who came to inquire the name of the Artist who painted the picture of my father. Office where I was occupied in Diary and Accounts. Mr. Dudley called and took his Lease to execute. Called at a wine auction, walk and home. Read a hundred lines of the second Satire of Juvenal. Mr. Frothingham dined with me and we had a pleasant conversation. Afternoon Duclos. Nothing material. The Newspapers announce the departure from Washington of my father, which is strange, from my getting no notice of any kind.2