Clear for once. But the wind from the Eastward piercingly cold. 293So that I was driven to repent of my clothing so thin in the morning. Attended divine service all day, and heard Mr. Frothingham preach. His first Sermon was from John 11. 25. “I am the resurrection and the life.” The other from Matthew 7. 11. “If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask him.” I had a little of a headach this morning which disabled me from paying any attention to these Sermons, nor was I much more in a condition to gather the Sense of Massillon’s Homily upon Lazarus. John 11. 34. “Come and see.” The Text is not peculiarly appropriate. His division was something of this kind: The condition of Lazarus was emblematic of the corruption of a vicious character. This is the first. The second treated of the means, such as faith, by which life was recalled. The third of the motives which could produce the resurrection. I do not know that in this case I am exact, but if not it must be attributed to the head ach which went on increasing until it entirely disabled me from attention to any thing. And my system was driven to relieve itself. This has of late happened repeatedly and gives me sufficient warning that I am now in the second stage of life. I retired very early, reading nothing but the Rambler.

Clear and cold. I am informed that there was a sharp frost, and I do not wonder at it. Read more of Vasari which is now more interesting although the Text is not easy Italian. I am on this point somewhat struck with it’s contrast to the Notes. Went to the Office where I read a little of Gibbon and spent an hour at the Athenaeum. I see nothing encouraging in the state of public affairs. Nor do I think my father can aid them a jot. Indeed there is enough in the present prospect to discourage a great deal. Our Country has probably to see some bad days, and all that good men can do will be to fold up their arms and mourn.

Afternoon, went to Quincy. Called at Mr. Field’s. Found he had moved from the House and yet circumstances seemed to authorize the supposition that it was only temporary. I followed him to where he lives but could not find him there either, so that I did not know what to do. He plagues me. Returned home earlier than usual. Evening quiet at home. Pursued all my usual studies.

A warm day but a very windy one. I read Vasari as usual and went to the Office. Nothing material took place. As it was the period for 294returning books to the Athenaeum, I went and amused myself an hour by reading an article in the Quarterly Review upon the state of America as contrasted with England. The subject of it is a book written lately by a certain Mrs. Trollop who has done much to justify her name.1 There is notwithstanding all the abuse a foundation of Justice in her remarks. We are not a perfect nation very certainly, but this is not the question. It is whether on the whole Man is not in as advantageous a situation in the United States as any where on the globe. That is, whether the aggregate of human happiness is not greater and that of misery less. I did not do much of any thing else.

Afternoon. Passed an hour in reading Sismondi and then drove out in the Country with my Wife. We returned at six o’clock and at seven went down to Mrs. Frothingham’s to spend the evening. She leaves town tomorrow for Medford to spend the summer. We had a pleasant time and returned home before ten. I felt sleepy however, so that I read only the Rambler and a little of Paley.