Morning clear and mild. Another of the delicious days we have had this Spring. I have never known a pleasanter season in this Climate, and though the rapidity of the advance may check the fruits by a return of frost, I yet cannot help feeling as if we were fully paid for the risk perhaps for some loss. Called to pay a bill for China made a present to Mrs. Walker by my Wife at the marriage of the former. An old account. Then to see about the Horse of whom I received a most discouraging Account. I fear his case is decided. Then to the Post Office where I received from my father two letters—One returning the Bond executed,1 the other inclosing two Pamphlets and a most bitter Satire upon the powers of the Nation.2 I have rarely known him to deal in such excessive gall, but as it is only to me, the thing matters 229little. I should hardly feel desirous to have it disclosed to the world for they would attribute it to a motive which is far from the operating one.

Mr. Kinsman came in to pay me a debt of Mr. Ayer which I had ordered to be sued.3 The writ settled the thing, and I believe it is all I now have to trouble me. Patience and perseverance have thus carried me through all the embarrassments of this season. My Agency affairs are on infinitely better footing, and I have cause to thank God for guiding me in the straight path which has brought me nearly out of my difficulties.

My time passed away rapidly in this way and I did not have a moment for Marshall. Afternoon taken up in writing a reply to my father which was tolerably good though infinitely qualified from his severity.4 I say tolerably good but I hardly dare to think so. Evening very short, read a little of Eustace to my Wife and afterwards Chalmers.

Morning rainy but warm. The weather cleared up however very shortly afterwards and produced another lovely day. I went to the Office and passed most of my morning in reading Marshall, the interesting portion of whose history I have now finished. In reflecting upon what I should do next, I felt a marvellous inclination to take up Aeschines and Demosthenes, though not a little awed by the amount of the labour which will be necessary to do any thing with it. I went to Hilliard’s Store to see what was to be done and upon examining the work of Mr. Negris I thought I would purchase and go directly to work to see whether something could not be done out of it.1 I propose to begin upon it coolly, to devote six months to the materials and the composition and if necessary to give two months more to the perfection. If I can make nothing more out of it, my labour will still not be lost. Called in to see Mr. Brooks who notified me of the birth of a son to Mrs. Everett, a matter which will delight them all—As Mr. Everett has been long regretting his want of one. Afternoon passed in my beginning of the Book of Mr. Negris, and found myself quite surprised that I had made myself so fully master of the text in my previous reading, but the Notes are very good. I read ten or fifteen pages easily. Evening Eustace to my Wife, after which I tried with little success to throw together some preliminary thoughts.