Morning rainy and dark. I went to the Office as usual. The second of my numbers appeared in the Advocate.1 I do not think it equal to the first. The editor has also made a few corrections, some of which are no improvements.2 I see in one or two a distrust of my information, 415which I do not wonder at, but yet cannot admire. These are some of the difficulties against which young men always have to struggle, and I trust that they will not succeed in discouraging me.

Time taken up writing Diary and reading Lingard. A call from Deacon Danl. Spear of Quincy about the Pew of the Episcopal Church, the balance for which I paid.3 Took my usual walk notwithstanding the rain.

Afternoon, working upon Antimasonry. Finished No. 7. but am much dissatisfied with it. Shall have to write it over. I have not got that power yet, which enables a person at the first dash to give thoughts their most effective form. How labour saving such a power is.

Evening quiet at home. My way of life here in Boston, is the most pacific, secluded kind of thing imaginable. I see few, know few and trouble myself with few. Read to my Wife, the lives of Roubiliac and Banks, Sculptors, and with her more of Malvina. Afterwards I hammered away upon German, and found my progress not so much impeded. Understand the point of two or three Fables. I have a notion that these are not the easiest things possible to begin with.