Morning pleasant. The first day that has given us any notion of the approach of Spring. I went to the Office as usual and was occupied 362in various matters of account, drawing out my usual Quarterly statement &ca. &ca.

Money matters have for a few weeks past engrossed my attention so entirely that I have paid little attention to politics, but the scenes in Congress are fearfully violent. My father as usual takes a lead. But now his lead is against the friends of Mr. Van Buren.1 And the other party, although taking great advantage of it, are yet by no means willing to say a good word for him. This is the course which all parties will finally adopt against him, and it will in the end drive him out of public life.

Walk to the Athenaeum but no farther. Home Livy. Afternoon, began again upon my work of assorting papers. Took up those of Henry Laurens, and Francis Dana. But the business is fatiguing. The Letters relating to all the foreign negotiations I wish to get together, and those which were written during the Presidency, for these are the two essential periods in his Life.

I read a little of Fouqué but not much. Evening a few ladies—E. C. Adams who dined here, Mrs. and Miss Miller, and he came in for them, Miss Anne Carter. These little kinds of converse are not very entertaining. I went home with Miss Carter. Bright moonlight night.