A clear day. I went to the Office, busied myself in the making up of the Accounts which have been behind hand for the last Quarter. I find myself better situated than I had expected, and more able to meet the strain upon my means for the next two months. The work took up much of my time.

Mr. o’Sullivan a young man from Washington, one of the undertakers of the Democratic Magazine as it is to be called, was with A. H. Everett, who called me in to introduce him and to make application for contributions.1 I assented with civility to his proposition, although without any intention of performing any thing. I am a little tired of politics. The intrusion of Mr. R. Freeman for a time kept us in an awkward state as we had nothing to say.

Home to read Homer. Afternoon, Plutarch, and Agathon. I have rather slighted old Burnet for a time. Evening, T. K. Davis came in and we had some talk but then adjourned to Mr. Frothingham’s to spend an hour from whence I went by invitation to J. Quincy Jr’s. A party of politicians. The honourable Senate or such of them out of the Whig ranks as chose to come, with Mr. Webster, Mr. Lawrence &ca &ca. I was not a little amused at the manner in which the first named gentleman was thrown directly in my way.2 As I was directly opposite the door, it opened and he looked me in the face. But he never moved a muscle nor did I. The party was so generally Whig that I found myself much out of my element, and was pleased to return to Mr. F’s. The only people of my side (as I call it) were Mr. Rantoul and A. Walker. The former seemed to me much depressed, and talked humbly. Supper at Mr. F’s, and a kind of talk that lasted quite late. T. K. Davis seemed depressed also but his dullness wore off with talking.