The day cold with clouds. A Frost is supposed to have taken place, rather injurious to the present state of the Fruit Trees. I made great progress in Demosthenes, and then went to the Office. My time pretty much occupied in making a draught of my third and last Number of Cimon. Some doubts occur to me how I can tell the truth here. Newspapers are squeamish. The story is certainly not very creditable to any one. One or two interruptions. A Mr. Libby called to hire one of the Tenements.1 These are destined, I believe to give me trouble constantly.

Took a walk to the Athenaeum and tried to find the Telegraph of the 16th of April but without success. Returned home and passed the afternoon in continuing the Oration for Sextius, which I nearly finished. It is not so perfectly handed down to us as that for Plancius nor is it to my notion so fine in itself, though the passage upon the Optimates in a State is very good.

Evening, read Grimm. He was beginning to be more interesting and just at that moment I am obliged to give him up for a fortnight, the 45Athenaeum calling for an examination of their Library. He is perfectly absurd about Diderot. Read two Numbers of the Spectator.