Arose feeling considerably better, but not clear of the burning feeling which has been affecting me of late. I did not attend any exercises all day. In the morning, I read the seventh part of the Night Thoughts. This is an interminable work. And the books grow longer 142as we get to the end. I am in no humour to read gloomy books at present and do not relish this man’s morbid state of temper. He does make some good reflections and when he condescends to get out of the vapours becomes quite agreable. My negligence in not getting the sixth volume of Mosheim from the Library has deprived me of the power of finishing it now, and it being too late to commence any thing of importance I sat down to read the last Novel of the Author of Waverley called St. Ronan’s Well.1 I finished it in the course of the day and evening. It is remarkably interesting having a great variety of incident and character. Etherington is a representation of one of your fashionable scoundrels so often described in Novels. He takes rather a queer step in marrying Clara Mowbray who is represented as a wild woodgirl with an amazing quantity of sensibility about a marriage which could easily and lawfully be got over as she married Francis Tyrrel and not Francis Valentine Bulwer Tyrrel, which appears to be the name of the counterfeit. This part of the incident I can not exactly suppose to be according to full probability. Indeed this novel is much more interesting while one is reading it than it seems to have been on recollection. Touchwood is almost too odd not to be strained. The scenes at the St. Ronan’s ordinary are the most natural. It is just the bustle of a small watering place. Lady Penfeather is quite well, so is Mr. Winterblossom and although I must confess I never met with any quite so desirous of arranging matters amicably as Captain McTurk, Lady Brinks is seen enough to compensate. The author always manages to throw a gloom over his pictures by selecting the remnants of a fallen house for his story to turn upon. He leaves a mystery also over the conduct of Clara in her last meeting with her brother which would have been better cleared up as if she must die, it is not necessary that her innocence should be doubted. The novel closes as if there was some deficiency. The reader feels as if there was some female wanted to close up with satisfaction for it must be allowed that he has given us prudes, sullens and mad women but no novel heroine for a young man at least to observe of. I retired immediately after finishing it. X:15.

Arose, feeling perfectly well, but having fixed my mind upon going away I went to the President’s immediately after breakfast and obtained leave of absence for the rest of the term. As he appeared to be 143in good humour, I made some inquiries on two points which have long been matter of agitation in my mind. They are whether I could exchange the study of Mathematics for some more interesting and more profitable study to myself and the other whether, in case I had a claim by my rank to a part, the Government would not take an excuse. On the first point the President was not explicit. He said that there had been some similar cases, and that he would speak to the Professor of Mathematics and see what could be done. My reasons are pretty word omitted—a dislike to the study, ill grounding, and loss of time. On the second he was not inclined to give me much hope. He said the Government imposed these things as a duty and an honor. If it was not considered the latter it must be taken in the former light. This shut my mouth and I was obliged to depart not so well satisfied with the conversation as I might be. I do hope still that by gaining the one I may obtain the other petition as I see no way in which I can be brought into even competition with any of my class.

I returned home and spent the rest of the Morning in wading through the terribly long night of Young. The poor man must have racked his brain considerably to write such a one as the eighth. I did not attend Mr. Farrar’s Lecture today owing to the want of time to accomplish my Journal and so forth. I also went to the Bookstore to read the new Plan to be adopted for this Institution. After examining the sketch, I have come to the opinion that something must be done, and that a great deal here is good but that somewhat of this must be corrected for I cannot think that a common place of boarding can be of any advantage to College as this does not appear to raise any obstacle to the old fault of the Institution, rebellion. To be sure the censure will be taken off the College in general but it will only come with greater force upon individuals. Dr. Ware and Mr. Hedge might come more into odium among the Students. I am too far advanced to have this materially affect me and I am thankful for it. For although I am perfectly willing to confess a change necessary, I am not inclined to be a sufferer by it. The system of fines is to be abolished and tasks imposed—a change under which I should suffer considerably.1

My affairs being arranged here, I stepped into the Stage and bid Goodbye to Cambridge and the Lyceum with a heart far from sorrowful. I have relished this term remarkably but nevertheless it has been of uncommon length and I have taken no recess to ease it off. My studies have been pretty close. My College exercises generally speaking pretty well performed and I have derived great benefit from my notes. Indeed I have but little reason to repent of my conduct. Per-144haps I wasted some time in dissipation in the first part of the term but this was pretty fully made up latterly.

My ride to town was dull and uninteresting. I went immediately to my brother’s room2 where I sat with him for an hour. Our conversation was so agreable that the time passed off astonishingly. I had much to say to him concerning the present state of our politics and he to me on the attack upon our family lately made by Mr. Timothy Pickering of Salem in the shape of a review of the Cunningham correspondence in which he is so severely handled.3 It seems that there is no limit to the abuse which he pours upon the Adams’s. This might make my blood boil, but when I think it comes from the man who was kicked out of office by my Grandfather, and who now tries his last strength to overturn the power which has ruled over him so completely, I am more desirous of looking at this with pity. He has now little influence, what little he has had, has been used to the injury of his country and native state. For he was the counsellor of the violent measures of the last war. Now he feels himself deserted and only able to show his teeth and bark to such effect however that we shall presently believe him mad. Conversing on this subject and others of equal importance, the Quincy stage arrived in the midst of our discourse and I hurried away. Receiving two or three slight cuts from Miss Harriet Welsh “en passant.”

My stage companions were two young girls and one old man. The latter was an amusing old crone who informed us all that he was happier than the richest man in the world. He had nothing, to be sure but then he cared for nothing. He passed along easily and contentedly without making any stir. Indeed I have seldom seen a man who seemed more pleased and contented with his wretched state. If he was poor as a church mouse he knew how to bear it. One of the girls appeared to be really a piety of the first degree and warmed quite enchantingly while singing the praises of good Mr. Cutler.4 The other was not so enthusiastic but would have been quite pretty had she squinted less.

The observation of human nature is one of my most favourite amusements and one which is most assisted by the freedom of a stage coach. We are always in search for variety of character and are delighted when we find it. The pretty prude who was at the corner is a common character in young women and always appears the most laughable. They are such a yielding sex that while you hear them talking in their prettiest manner, you cannot help thinking that their muscles are not always so rigid nor their principles so stern. A pretty 145enthusiast is the sweetest and at the same time the weakest person in the world. I had some converse with the other girl whom I found more easy and perhaps more bold. These people know how to flatter for they talked of my grandfather as if they did not know me. At least the man did and perhaps he was really ignorant of my name but this was not the case with the other although she was very warm in his praises. More so perhaps than might have been necessary. Thus passed the time and I alighted at the bottom of the hill quite diverted with my afternoon’s entertainment. I walked leisurely up the hill leading to my Grandfather’s house and admired very much the beauty of the country, the vividness of the grass and the number of blossoms. Indeed I have never seen the summer open more beautifully than it does this year. The rains have made the Spring very unpleasant indeed but they have preserved the verdure of the grass. Cambridge being situated so low does not show itself so much to advantage and my room being upon a barren common.

I was soon saluted by a dozen voices and had soon the pleasure of going through the usual form of salutation all round. After finding out what all knew before that we were some of us sick except myself I went up to see my grandfather and talk with him. He was full of Pickering’s book, the preface to which he made me read and part of the review. It is a scandalous publication and serves to make the plot of this election thicken. Mr. P. writes like a mad bull and gores every person who is thrown in his way. At tea, I met my Uncle who appears to relish this the least of all. In fact I find the family grind their teeth not that they feel anxious concerning the book but because they long to see him prostrated which desire will soon be gratified. For he has attacked three men who have powerful men to avenge them. The old gentleman appears exceedingly feeble and evidently will soon be laid up in his death bed. He converses cheerfully.

After a very little nonsense with the ladies, retired. XI:15.