A bright, beautiful day which but for the snow on the ground would have appeared autumnlike. I went to the Office and was setting about my work upon Mr. Johnson’s Accounts when A. H. Everett came in. We had much talk upon the present state of things. One remarkable fact about him appears to be either that he keeps his counsel pretty well, or that he is very little in the secret of the party. Perhaps the truth may be that the party has none but implicitly obeys orders from the head at Washington. On the whole, there is much vexation in politics and no great compensation. Mr. Van Buren will now be put to develope the qualities by which he is known.

Called to see Mr. Appleton and Mr. Dexter about Mr. Johnson’s business which drags very heavily. Afternoon at home. Read the Speeches of Mr. Clay and Mr. Sergeant, both very sensible and in a very good tone.1 It is impossible to resist the conviction that a National Bank is the only remedy.

Evening, my Wife being better, I went to the Theatre to see Miss Tree play in Talfourd’s tragedy of Ion. She takes the boy part. I went not expecting much and was therefore agreeably disappointed but the piece acts coldly. And Miss Tree depends for her effect as an Actress so much upon her proprieties as a woman, that one notices more perhaps the absence of them than any positive merit. Adrastus was much overacted by Mr. Cline. The Afterpiece was the Turnpike Gate a wretched thing. Home by ten. House thin.