Morning at the Office. Weather stormy and disagreeable. This morning produced to the light the first piece I ever wrote that was published.1 I wrote a short letter to my father upon the subject inclosing the articles written by Mr. Lowell under the signature of a Yankee Farmer and mentioning my notice of them. This took up much time and I had only an hour or two for Law. The receipt of a letter from my Mother2 assuring me of the continuation of good spirits in the family notwithstanding the disaster of the election,3 had a very good effect on mine, as I had been anxious upon the subject. Afternoon, reading Mr. Burke on Indian Affairs, not very interesting and if it were not for an occasional exceedingly eloquent passage, I would omit it altogether. Evening, did not go out as it rained violently. Remained at home and read Comus and a Book of Paradise Lost.

Morning at the Office. I walked down to the Office of the Middlesex Canal1 to effect a transfer of the shares my father gave me but found no body to help me, so was obliged to return with the benefit of a long walk for nothing. Mr. Brooks notified to me that Abby was in town, and I went to see her at Mrs. Frothingham’s but she was not at home. I think too much upon that subject. It still paralyzes my powers of mind, but one thing I thank Heaven for, that it has ceased to be gloomy. Not seeing her this morning was a disappointment but it did not make me dull. I pursued my occupations as usual. Afternoon, reading Mr. Burke and American History by Mr. Pitkin, which is rather prosy. Evening at the Office. Read Sheridan’s Critic for the first time and then read it over. Delightful performance. It made me laugh heartily.