Another cold, cloudy day. At home. Evening, the family at my house.

Determined not to suffer so much again from cold I had the furnace heated this morning and enjoyed a very comfortable morning. Finished my review of Tucker’s book and began writing upon it, but my vigor flags. I do so much in writing now that I have lost interest in it. Yet I promised and will perform.

Read a part of Lessing, Life of Sophocles or rather notes of what is said about him in the writings of the ancients.1 Lessing is among the most acute of all the critics I ever read.

Afternoon, Lucan book 2. l. 1–300. And Grimm. But my Mother and the other ladies came in to spend the evening. Nothing at all new.