My first Letter to Mr. Slade came out this morning and satisfies me pretty well. I this morning answered a note from A. H. Everett inclosing an invitation to a dinner at Salem and the other Ceremonies among which is an Oration from him, on the 8th of January. After reflection I conclude it wisest to decline it. Mr. Everett is a man of whose motives of action I have seen too much within a few years to rely upon them very implicitly. He has on the whole supported my father and therefore I am disposed to do what I can to support him. But he may wish of me things that are not for my benefit merely because they may be for his, and among them the keeping him in countenance in the glorification of Jackson. I feel no disposition to this on my own account, and much less on my father’s. I therefore sent a brief note with reasons and a civil refusal.1 I hope in this I acted for the best.

Office. Accounts which engrossed my time. Walk with T. Dwight and pleasant conversation. Home. Livy. I sent my second Letter to Slade today. Afternoon, at work on the third.

To the Play in the Evening. The third time of seeing the Somnambulist. I was less pleased with the first Act, and more with the close of the second and third. The Chorus of “When day light’s going” and “As I view these scenes” enchanted me over again. The finale “Oh do not mingle one earthly feeling” is exquisite. The house was not quite so full, and the performance generally more languid. Home early.