Day fine. At home. Evening at the Mansion.

I passed my time quietly but pretty steadily all day. Read and finished Arthur Lee’s Correspondence and that of his brother William’s with a portion of Mr. Izard’s who seems to have been the least valuable of all the Officers we had abroad. A true Carolinian full of all sorts of whimsies. Texier, and being doubtful of what German I would read, took up Plutarch’s Life of Alcibiades from which I gather all that Meissner puts into his Romance. After dinner, Twenty sections of the twelfth book of Annals of Tacitus, Le Comte and a good deal of Grimm.

The weather is now settled and delightful and I think the view from my portico in the morning is beautiful. Evening at my father’s.