Fine morning. I remained at home very quietly all day. My time was taken up partly in writing a slight and poor beginning upon Cromwell, partly in drawing off a sketch of some ideas for the Newspapers. I did not succeed very well in either of these attempts from numerous interruptions which took place. Finished Mr. Noble’s sketch of the Protector with that of some of his family. He ought to have some credit for rearing his children carefully. They do not seem to have 354possessed any portion of his energy of character, and considering the temper of the nation, perhaps it was as well for them.

After dinner read a little of Seneca. My father seems now to begin to take interest in the biography of my Grandfather and to feel a disposition to file and arrange his Papers. If this should come to any thing I shall feel obliged to turn my attention again to them after having given them up some time since in despair.

Evening, I accompanied my Mother and Wife in visits to Mr. Whitney and his family, and to Mr. Miller’s. We got home by nine o’clock.

Fine day. Remained at home again. Wrote off a fair copy of the draught which I mentioned yesterday and was engaged in reading again the first volume of Mr. Oliver Cromwell’s book. But somehow or other I do not take to it now. The clearness of my ideas is all gone. Perhaps in a week or two it may come back again. In the mean time, my labour seems to be very much without an object. My spirits are not very good in this state of things.

After dinner, I sat about the old files and went over a considerable number of letters received during the period commencing with this Century.1 There is a vast deal of trash with very valuable matter in this collection of Papers. I think it incumbent upon my father to take some course by which the latter shall be picked out and placed in a form to be made durable.

Evening at home. Read aloud in assisting my father the last Chapter of Sir Jas. Mackintosh’s Dissertation upon the History of Ethical Philosophy.2 Finished 2d vol. of the Adventurer.

My father went this day to Cambridge to attend the exercises of the ΦBK Society. I rode to town and passed my morning in attending to matters of business. Called at the Athenaeum and spent half an hour looking over the Newspapers, then saw Mr. Degrand. My time in this manner was pretty entirely consumed so that I did nothing in reading 355excepting to look over one or two old papers of Mr. Southey lately reprinted in form by him as if they were worth preserving from oblivion — A conclusion I have not been able to reach.1

Afternoon passed in assorting my Grandfather’s Papers. One old trunk is left which contains great numbers. I worked hard upon them and made a material diminution in the amount. With the exception of Seneca for half an hour, I did little or nothing else. Evening, Captain Basil Hall’s sketches to the Ladies.2