Morning fine, I went to the Office. My things are all moved into my old quarters and make them not a little confined. But I am so little at them that they will do very well. Diary and Accounts.

Received a letter from my father giving a long detail of matters during the Session.1 He seems to be in about as bad spirits politically as I am. The state of affairs in this country is hardly favorable to an independent man who will ask favors of nobody, and be under obligations to none. My spirits have been a little otherwise depressed within a few days.

Walk. Home, Livy which I read with pleasure. Afternoon, Sismondi—Italian Literature, Goldoni and his successors. Then Ariosto whose story is amusing and then Fouqué. I wish to finish this story of the Magic Ring which after all plays a part only at the last. I think I shall find more pleasure in the book of travels of Forster which I have at the office.2 My Wife went to Quincy today with Mrs. Miller and did not return until after tea. I walked as the air was warm and then home where I read Madame d’Abrantes, Swift.