Morning cool but clear. After going through my regular labours I started off again with Joseph and this morning we were successful. I had some conversation with him i.e. Commodore Morris about the outfit necessary and found it was by no means so great as I anticipated. That his Joseph’s principal expense of uniform might be dispensed with and that he might wear whatever he had already, on board the ship. If Mrs. A. had any Judgment, this would be the easiest matter in the world but the misfortune seems to be every thing must be done in spite of her. My principal object however was accomplished and on our return Joseph went immediately to Quincy. I passed the rest of the morning at the Office. Deacon Spear called and consumed half an hour and some time passed in writing my Journal.

Afternoon, busy in reading Cicero. Forwarded an answer to my Father’s letter received this morning which sent me an inaccurate Note. His Congressional Affairs now turn his head as much as others formerly did. He runs into every thing headlong.1

Evening finished the sixteenth Chapter of Gibbon, which is indeed a curious specimen of insidious warfare. Read my two Spectators.

This was a mild morning—The thermometer being only at about freezing point. It may be called the first of the kind we have had this winter. I went to the Office and was engaged there in various ways without touching any part of my Article. Wrote a letter to my Mother about Joseph &ca.1 And Mr. Degrand called in for a few moments. So that I had no length of time at my disposal.

Returned home and in the afternoon, finished the second book De Divinatione. Which is on the whole pretty convincing, although parts of the refutation are not so entirely sound as the author seems to think them; for instance his taking to pieces the strong syllogism of the other party. He questions positions because they are not generally admitted, but at the same time does not deny that he thinks they are right. Now if they are sound as to him, the refutation from the opinions of others is not complete.

Evening, sat downstairs two hours with my Wife. Then read a little of Gibbon’s third Volume, and the eleventh book of the Iliad and Spectator.

The weather again severely cold. The Season is unprecedented. We have had more sharp weather during the month of December than during the whole of our ordinary winters. This comes at a time of scarcity in fuel and of extraordinary sickness, so that on the whole the suffering in the poorer classes must be severe.

I went to the Office and passed my time in drawing up my second Article upon which I sickened a little of the whole job. Davis does not publish and the thing is getting stale.1 It takes me a good deal of thought to write a Paper of this kind and I get no pay in money or in reputation. So it is. My efforts all turn out poorly yet I will not be discouraged. Went to the Athenaeum, and suffered more on my return home than I have before this Winter.

Afternoon, Read Cicero’s De Fato, which is a species of supplement to the rest, as a refutation of the Stoic doctrine of Fate. Perhaps this is the most puzzling point human ingenuity has ever exercised itself 203upon. This has come down to us only with a different name. The question of predestination and free will amounting to about as much.

Evening, my Wife spent downstairs and I read to her part of Harriet Lee’s Canterbury Tales.2 Afterwards Homer’s 12th Book of the Iliad, a little of Gibbon and the Spectator.