Morning exceedingly warm but at two the wind came round with a jerk and the consequence was an extraordinary chill in the atmosphere. I went to the Office. Mr. Walsh came in and talked but there 381was nothing new. The political world seems to be in a state of calm. But the Globe has published a manifesto in which it is said is manifested much alarm for the result of the election and an admission that if it goes to the House, Mr. Van Buren will be defeated.1 I do not feel very sorry for this. In the first place it will take down the overbearing and dictatorial tone of the party, and in the second, it will make them more conciliatory to us in this quarter, which is very much to be desired. And even after all, if Van Buren fails, there will be no great loss to the Country. I support him as a choice of evils, and shall not cry my eyes out for the success of the ninny Harrison or the booby White. Under the latter especially the Government would be feebly but yet honestly administered. I am not sorry for this on many other accounts all connected with public considerations as very certainly any other result than the election of Mr. Van Buren effectually blocks up every path for me. I think this shows my disinterestedness pretty clearly.

Accounts and Diary, then on two or three commissions. Went to see Mr. Pickman’s House which is to be sold tomorrow2—A very nice house, but my object in looking at it is only curiosity. Livy. J. H. Adams took his departure from our house after dinner for Quincy where his mother has opened her’s. He has been quiet and cheerful, giving us no disturbance.3 Evening, a thunder shower. Madame Junot. The seventh volume is tiresome, Swift.