Clouds and snow although mild. I went to the Office. Accounts from France of the reception of the President’s Message quite favorable. I was engaged in bringing up my Diary which suffers mortally from Arrears. I wonder if I cannot devise some means to become more of an automaton. Walk to the Athenaeum to get a book and then home.

Livy. The extraordinary nature if I may so say of all his narratives clearly manifest that they are founded in fact. The Romans present a great study to the politician and I mean to avail myself of it. My political career is not commenced under auspices the most bright and it may terminate at a moment’s warning, but at any rate I will seek to put upon some resting place more solid than the mere momentary breeze. I will fit myself for my calling as well as I can.

Afternoon continued the letters of Dr. Rush. I see in him some of the features his son has inherited—And the democratic tendencies are very distinct. There is a distinguishing line in this Country—The money and property, and the love of fame, of power and glory. Evening, read to my Wife from Japhet in search of his father, one of Capt. Marryatt’s books.1