Clear but cool. At home. Evening, visiter. At the Mansion.

I spent the first part of my morning with the boys trying to catch fish but was disappointed. I find this like most of my boyish fancies declining. Then upon my return home, finished copying the letters to Mr. Jefferson, after which I began upon those to my father, a couple of files of which I have been able to find in the chaos of my father’s MSS.1 Read also Menzel finishing the first volume of his work. His sketch of German Philosophy seems to regard Kant as the wonder of the world. Some time or other I must take up Kant.

In the Afternoon, Tacitus, Dialogue of Orators. There is much dispute respecting the authorship of this—and the argument for or against Tacitus appears to me equally strong. The style is certainly not that of the other works, but it is very forcible and now and then betrays glimpses of it. It looks like a youthful effort bearing only certain marks of identity with maturer ones. Perhaps these are fallacious.2

Edmund Quincy took tea with us and spent the evening. For the first time he came out with some of his notions to me and made me regret that so amiable a disposition had allowed itself to be loaded with so much of the extravagance of life. I spent only half an hour at the house below.