I am this day twenty eight years old. The year has passed which I have regarded as the turning point of most men’s lives. It has not however gone without adding to me a little reputation. It surely is no small compliment to me that my style should first have been taken for Alexander H. Everett’s and then for my father’s, the two best political writers in the State if not in the Country. It surely cannot be said that this my life has been wasted when at twenty seven I am even momentarily compared to the most ancient and best established reputations for ability in the Country.

In other respects I have been also blessed far beyond my deserts during the last year. I have another and a fine child, and my property 199has much increased. How many things I have to be thankful for. How many which ought to remind me to preserve a feeling of humility, to be perpetually conscious of my utter dependence upon the Supreme being and my duty to return him the praise. Let me keep in mind my humble state and not be elated by any foolish selfsufficiency.

Rode to town and engaged very much all day. Nothing of any particular consequence. Called at the Advocate Office and left my Paper, at the Athenaeum and house. Returned to dine. Afternoon quietly at home. Read a little and assorted my Grandfather’s Papers. What a discouraging mass. I do not know that I am not doing mischief, by partial and insufficient efforts. Evening quietly at home. Time passes rapidly in my present mode of life but I do not know that I am devoting it in such a manner as would be most for my advantage.