This morning was severe but the cold increased in intensity until it became unusually great for this region at any season. The thermometer fell in the day as low as 10 or 12 degrees below zero and rose again towards night. I went to the Office much as usual and passed my time in reading Mr. Gallatin. Then home first calling at a house in Mount Vernon Street to see some furniture advertised for sale.1 This walk was severe enough.

Read Persius finishing the second Satire. Afternoon Adam Smith. But I made no great progress in him. He writes with clearness too, and I understand his distinctions much better than those of Mr. Gallatin.

Before tea, T. K. Davis came in and spent the whole evening. Conversation principally of a light description. I think Davis a young man of decidedly more talent, intellect and education than most of those I meet with. But it seems to me he is drinking too deep of the cup of Circe. He is giving way to the pleasures which he finds in the houses of the rich, until he is likely to forget that the whole edifice of life, as well in it’s ornaments as its solid parts, is only sustained by labor. We talked of Dr. Channing’s Pamphlet on Slavery which he recommends so strongly that I shall read it.2 He did not go home until late and I pitied his walk.