The day was not an improvement upon any of the preceding. I went to the Office as usual and occupied myself in making up my Accounts as well as writing my Journal after which I sat down again to my German. My progress here is not very rapid and for a few days past has been very much confused by other occupations. I succeeded however in making a slight impression upon the verbs. Took my walk as usual between one and two o’clock.

In the afternoon I read a large portion of Cicero’s second book de 363Oratore, coming to the Account of wit which I did not taste. The application of language in this manner requires a most thorough knowledge of the conversational idiom of a Country, and the peculiar acceptation of words in Society. However good it may have been, and Cicero would scarcely have commended it if it had not been thought so, we can see nothing which merits being so strongly sustained.

Evening, Corinne with my Wife, after which Edward Brooks came in and spent the evening. Which was all very pleasantly done. I finished the fifth book of Paradise Lost, and reviewed two thirds of it. Two numbers of the Tatler.

The wind changed and the weather which had been hazy became at last pretty clear. The Sun showed himself to us again and animated the scene which has so long been dark. I went to the Office as usual and after the usual duties, had just set myself down to study my German when my Father came in from Quincy. He sat at my Office all the morning and my occupations were entirely prevented by Mr. Curtis and Mr. Degrand who came in one after the other and consumed all the period. I was sorry to hear that my Mother was not well, but at the same time was glad to find that she had decided to go to Washington. This was produced by a letter from John which I had sent for, but which I fear was not precisely in the tone that I admire.1 My father dined with me and consumed so much of the afternoon that I did not think it worthwhile to go upon Cicero this afternoon and spent it upon my Catalogue which I should wish could progress a great deal more than it does.

My day was on the whole a poorly spent one, and my mind always assumes a load of care when I think of my Parents. Their situation is a painful one, and it is always a hard thing for a Child to feel a doubt about the sound Judgment of either. But I see no way to avoid it. For I always find them in some species of embarrassment, and I do not often agree with their plans.

Evening, I read a little of Corinne with my Wife and a part of Crabbe’s Tales which I never opened before.2 They are not very astonishing. Part of the sixth Book of Paradise Lost with the review of the fifth and the Tatler.