The morning of the New Year broke bright and clear, though much colder than it had been heretofore. It is usually with me the season of reflection upon the past and the future. I have little to say in regard to the former for Circumstances have already occurred in the Interval since last year, in which I fully explained my feelings in regard to it. I commence this year in a new and responsible relation, and I look now to the future with more anxiety. My own feelings have nothing in them which I can condemn. I endeavour to keep up to the line of duty which my rigid sense of propriety marks out, and though not conscious yet of failure, the dread of it hangs still heavy on my mind. It is not probable that at any future time, I shall enjoy so fully the satisfaction of a contented mind as I now do. For the future is bright, beyond the possibility of realization.

I was busy all the morning in making up my Accounts against the different Tenants and sending them out. Mr. Lewis called upon me to settle the rent and I asked him what he thought the House would 122in future be worth. He gave me very little encouragement to expect it would be even what I had fixed it. He paid me his balance due in full, and took his final leave. Degrand called to know if I wished to make an Investment in some Stock tomorrow to which I assented, and gave him the necessary instructions to that effect. I arranged my own Accounts during the Month and paid myself the Quarterly Allowance due on this day to me by my Father.

Returning home, found my Wife quite unwell and comfortless. This was not at all pleasant. After dinner I went upstairs and read Aeschines as usual—Nothing of interest occurring. Evening passed in reading to my Wife a part of Clarissa Harlowe in which we go along quite slowly. She was so unwell that she retired early and I sat two hours writing upon the subject of Eloquence. I was satisfied with what I did when I left off, but there is no possibility of telling how I shall like it when I look over it again. The day passed more quietly to me than any New Year’s day I have passed for many years.

The weather still continued delightfully mild during the whole day. I was at the office engaged in my usual occupations—Arranging my Accounts which from some cause or other take up much of my time and talking much with Mr. Degrand who did not succeed in making any Investment for me as I had desired. I am not entirely sorry for this as what I saw did not present to me a vision entirely attractive. I was able to devote a short time to reading and became much interested in the Speech of Mr. Harper upon the British Treaty power of appointing Ministers lodged in the Executive.1 It is a tolerable Speech, but disappoints me when compared to what I had heard my Brother say of it. It does not nearly equal that of Mr. Ames which I have lately read, on the British Treaty. I had not much time to think of these things and so was obliged to return home after seeing Mr. Brooks for a moment to tell him we should go out of town tomorrow.

After dinner I continued reading Aeschines and endeavouring to make a more rapid advance than hitherto in which I succeeded and as I had a little time over and above, which remained besides, I devoted it to commencing a Letter to my Father, which I could not finish before it became time to go to the regular meeting of the Debating Society. I regret that I am always feeling so pressed for time, as to be unable to write to him as fully and regularly as I ought—123Because my Correspondence with him has the double merit of being interesting and useful to me. I was obliged to leave off, to go and hear the question of the Georgia Indians discussed. It was done in a lame and dull manner. The Committee were not a good one to do the subject justice, and those were absent who could give most interest to it. I was much pleased with my own extemporaneous success to revive the drooping spirit which had been distressed by the long harangue of Dr. Davis, neither studied nor connected in its parts.2 Returned home late and retired after reading an article in the North American Review called a Year in Spain.3