Morning dark and misty as usual. I went to the Office and was occupied partly in reading, and Diary and Accounts. Nothing of consequence. The capture of General Santa Anna appears to be confirmed1 –A strange reverse of fortune and only going to show how near one extreme in this world is to the other. The consequences of this state of things to the United States remain yet to be developed. I do not pretend to foresee them.

Home earlier than usual and read a good part of Livy’s twenty third book. Afternoon, Mackintosh whose book is a treat. Procrastination and literary indolence appear to have been his besetting sins. How pardonable when one contrasts them with such as usually disfigure the world. How pardonable by me who am so liable to similar influences. Read a Chapter of Sismondi and Ariosto. Nothing further.