Cold but it moderated before night. Distribution as usual.

Christmas day but with us commonly the quietest day of the year. I saw nobody and went on with my usual avocations just as regularly as ever. How different it used to be when I was a boy and knew not the meaning of the days. Perhaps this is the greatest point of contrast between the pleasures of boyhood and man’s age.

At the Office in Accounts. Then to the Athenaeum where I picked up a book or two more upon coins. Alcestis and Coins. My Wife dined out at her sick friend’s Mrs. Gorham’s. Evening French and a visit from Mr. Brooks for an hour. After which Crevier. Thus I have about as monotonous a record to make as if it was the commonest day of the year.