Fine weather. Nothing new at Washington. Mr. Webster has been making a speech which his puffers pronounce the very most superhuman thing possible.1 Such is the way of manufacturing public opinion in this country! What profligacy in both of the parties. What utter disregard of the popular interest.

Office where I finished my reformation of the papers. Then call to see Mr. Brooks where I met Gorham who has just arrived from Baltimore. Home to dine at two so that I read Sophocles after dinner. A singular piece the Oedipus of Coloni, full of fine poetry and sentiment but with very little of action.

Gorham Brooks called in the afternoon and took tea, after which I accompanied him down to his father’s where there was a small party of the family. These very rarely have much interest but were better tonight. Home at about ten or a little after. My Wife still grows better.