A cold morning. I pass an hour usually in making out a catalogue of my coins and then out to the Office when my business is about sufficient to keep me employed until one. Mr. Stanwood this day brought me the Deed of the Estate which I filled up with my own name he not 362having performed his part in the engagement to redeem the houses, and returned to Mr. Appleton. This has been another vexatious business, and my pamphlet drags on shockingly. I do not admire my new publisher.

Mr. I. P. Davis stopped me to talk of a Lecture before the Historical Society and referred to the ones I had delivered at Quincy. I told him they were two and made but an imperfect sketch themselves. I proposed to him to make something out of my grandmother’s papers which he seemed to think feasible and requested me to prepare something for January. Thus my hands are full of literary projects.

Home. Herodotus. Afternoon, Crantz and the book on Medals. Evening quiet, reading Lockhart after which I began a sketch.