The day was cloudy with rain. I went to the Office and from thence in my usual round to the House where I examined the progress made. Not so good as I might wish. My time at the Office is made short by these various calls. I wrote my Diary and consulted my Accounts but had very little opportunity to read.

Being at the Bank I accidentally met Mr. Hallett who accosted me and entered into much conversation upon the present state of political affairs. He is now occupying a species of neutral ground which is growing narrower as he stands. The pressure of party is such that he must look in some direction for support. And his question now is which side. Mr. Webster’s friends and Mr. Van Buren’s have made overtures, and the present situation of his Newspaper requires a decision. After talking it over pretty well in the cold, we separated. I think he leans to Mr. Van Buren. And indeed bitter as is the pill, I fear, it must be swallowed.

Home. Afternoon M. Thiers, finishing the fifth volume—The series of executions which produced the name of the Reign of terror. Bad enough in all conscience. The feast of pure reason, and republican equality. Afterwards, Landor. A most impudent and conceited puppy. I have no patience with him. He thinks with some acuteness but without any modesty. And puts language in people’s mouths which is not at all in the style which seems natural. His ideas are coarse too.