A beautiful morning with some little admonition of the return of a more genial season. My Wife still continues much in the same condition, but mending. Office, where was Mr. Walsh on a begging errand of which I am tired and besides myself much straitened. Then Mr. Ladd to pay rent and finally Mr. S. O. Mead to announce his entire inability to do any thing about his Note. This was not unexpected to me though I confess very far from agreeable. How I shall get out of the scrape I know not but it is at present a pretty deep one. After talking it over a good deal without coming to any result we separated. Home. Sophocles.

Afternoon, Mr. Eddy1 called to notify me of annual accounts on a committee of the Middlesex Canal from which I had once been liberated and now remonstrated against my serving. He asked me to go over and look at a house which is just finished in the Neighborhood which he was showing to Mr. Brooks. I did so and was not greatly pleased with it.

At five I started to go to Medford according to arrangement to de-2liver my Lecture to the Lyceum there. Stopped to take tea at Mr. Angier’s. Found my Aunt much as usual. Delivered the Lecture to a numerous audience and was received as favourably as I could expect. Home by a few minutes past nine. What a matter of vanity this Lecture eloquence is, and what is fame but a shadow? Yet how men pursue it. Eckhel finished. Read Poggiana.2