More moderate, but still cold winter’s weather. I went to the Office as usual. Calm in the political elements. My last number on the Presidential question appeared yesterday. I believe it is now time for me to stop and fold up my Arms. I will see the combatants and amuse myself. Read the remainder of Rousseau’s Social Compact and a little of his Essay on the inequality of men.1 Diary and Accounts as usual.

Walk. Then home where I finished the fourteenth and nearly all the fifteenth Satire of Juvenal. Afternoon, continued Levesque and finished Mad. du Deffand’s portraits. A complimentary style. Evening, Beatrice and Beaumont and Fletcher’s Play of Beggar’s Bush. I took it up on Coleridge’s recommendation in the Table Talk. I indistinctly remembered it. It does not strike me so much.2