Fine day. At home all day. Evening at the Mansion, and dine there.

I this morning resumed my labour in copying the letters which I remitted in order to make a draught of my Lecture. This is necessarily slow and tedious, but I hope it will come to something. Read a little of Menzel also, whose work rather hangs heavily with me in the theological part. I know none of the writers of whom he speaks even by name and do not put much faith in his entire theory respecting them. There are however occasionally acute remarks and happy illustrations. Dined at my father’s. Read Tacitus b. 4. s 20–40. This is all I can do. The evenings which I do not employ now grow long.