A fine day. Weather continues extraordinarily mild. I went to the Office where I was much taken up with accounts. Deacon Spear came in and I settled off with him as well as the Mason. This consumed much of my time. Heard nothing more from Washington respecting poor T. B. Adams. But I called to see Mr. Foster and make some inquiry respecting the information which might have reached him. He was not in but after dinner he called to say that he knew nothing of it.

Herodotus. Afternoon, still lounging over the Correspondance which is I am afraid worse than useless. I must set about contriving some mode of occupation which will be more serviceable to me. The details of French Society in the last age may be amusing but there is lurking poison in them. I did not feel very well. My back and heart were stiff and my lungs sore. Evening Lockhart and afterwards writing.