Morning bright and clear. I went to the Office after having paid my usual visit to the Tenements to see how they are going on. Found the Irish Tenant had moved but the person she left was still there. This is a piece of work. At the Office where after reading some political articles upon the President’s message I sat down to arrange what I proposed to say tomorrow at the Meeting of the Debating Society upon the Working Men’s Party. I did not make very rapid progress and felt obliged to go to the Athenaeum for the purpose of consulting the works upon America in the question that occurs to my mind.

As P. Chardon Brooks had invited Abby and me to dine at his house today, we accordingly went. It is the first time that I have dined 384there for I do not know how long. We found them pleasant as usual and I returned home in time to accomplish a considerable portion of Cicero’s book called Brutus or de claris Oratoribus1 which seems to be a mere account of such as have enjoyed reputation in the Republics of Athens and Rome. Evening at home. We read a little of Corinne and some of the Baroness Minutoli’s Book, after which I made good progress in my Catalogue and read my usual numbers in the Tatler.

Morning at the Office as usual. Received a letter from my Mother at Philadelphia but in the Account reached no farther than New York. She is well and has passed all the bad portion of the Journey pretty comfortably.1 My time was passed in arranging what I had to say upon the Working Men’s party, after going to Market which I tried this morning. I recollect that long before I was married, I used to laugh at this peculiar duty of Wedded Life in Boston, but on experience I think it is by no means unpleasant. My time is not however very well accounted for. I waste it nearly as badly as ever.

On my return home I designed taking a walk but was stopped by purchasing some Wood, a business I have been contemplating for some time past. This prevented my having a walk of any length. Afternoon, read Cicero de claris Oratoribus which is not over and above interesting. A dry detail of men who never were very distinguished as Orators and now forgotten is but uninteresting reading.

I took an hour to prepare myself for my evening duty, but I felt disinclined to it as I was forced to the wrong side. I went, but did not succeed as well as usual not only from the want of support but from my disbelief of the doctrines. I returned home and read two numbers of the Tatler.

The Weather was hazy and portended snow which however did not begin to fall until evening, at least in any quantity. I attended divine Service at the Church in Chauncy Place and heard Mr. Frothingham deliver two Sermons upon what he called the doctrine of Compensation, or the principle by which suffering or privation in one respect, is made up to us by enjoyment or possession in some other. This is in 385some lights a useful as well as a fascinating doctrine, but will bear application better to past than to future events. A man who shall rely upon happiness merely because he is suffering in misery will be likely to have that misery only increased by the bitterness of disappointment and will be led to forget that permanent dependance which he can justly place only upon the future of a beneficent Deity. This world is one of trial, in which the wicked often succeed, and the good are tried severely, so that compensation to either can only come from the final doom in another and a better world. But I don’t design going so deep into this matter. I read a portion of Drake which I found trifling, and some of Hutchinson that convinces me the English Pamphlet is wrong, and some of Enfield’s History of Philosophy upon the Greek Schools that was interesting, and some of Corinne, and Baroness Minutoli, after which my Catalogue, and the Tatler.