The third cold morning. I went to the Office quite late and found every thing so cold and cheerless that I left in disgust without making a fire or sitting down to work. I went to the Athenaeum and amused myself in conversation with Mr. Walsh upon the present distress in the money department. Our majority seems to have gone mad, and they have the power. A democracy has it’s evils. In the mean time, I sup-252pose I should feel myself as less exposed to absolute suffering from all these events, than any body, or at least than the great number.

Afternoon, Lord Bacon. I want some definite occupation and yet if I had it, I do not know how I could manage to pursue it. Evening quietly at home. Patronage, which is not so interesting. The idea of a perfect female character it is very well to define, but it’s improbability destroys the illusion of a tale of real life and brings us down at once to a moral treatise. Adam Smith.

Weather moderating. The Dr. finally assured us this morning that our children did not need his services further at this time, and the idea is charmingly comfortable. The baby gives us some care, but we hope he will now be less uneasy.

I went to the Office and endeavoured to make up arrears, but what with a visit from Mr. Ladd and one from Mr. Walsh, I executed but little even though I remained until two.

We were invited to dine at Mr. Brooks’ with a company—A. H. Everett, R. D. Shepherd, Mr. Peabody, Messrs. Walker, Magrath, and Seaton, young men at Cambridge, from the South, Mr. Frothingham, my wife and self. Edward Brooks and the family made up the table. The dinner was very pretty although the rooms were too cold to be perfectly comfortable. We returned home by six and I read as usual. Patronage, and a volume of Entertaining Knowledge.

My record of Sunday is now little else than that of my religious exercises. A few years since I could hardly have expected that I should so easily have fallen into the performance of a regular train of duties. Mr. Frothingham preached, though a fall of snow very seriously prevented attendance. Mark 7. 11. “Ye say, if a man shall say to his father or mother, It is Corban, that is to say, a gift, by whatsoever thou mightest be profited by me, he shall be free.” The unrighteous reservations which are for special purposes to the neglect of the familiar charities of life—A practice somewhat common in these days of ostentatious generosity. There is great justice in censure of this. Yet the heart must not be allowed to swing back to selfishness.

1 Timothy 2. 4. “Who will have all men to be saved and to come unto the knowledge of the truth.” I will not undertake to state the 253substance of this discourse. The reason why is that if I understood the starting proposition, I doubt it’s foundation. If not I do nothing but misrepresent.

Read a Sermon of Atterbury’s upon a Fast declared for some national losses. Psalms 3. v.6,7, and 8. “In my prosperity I said I shall never be moved. Lord, by thy favour thou hast made my mountain to stand strong, thou didst hide thy face and I was troubled. I cried to thee, O Lord, and unto the Lord I made supplication.” The subject was the intoxicating effect of prosperity and the moral to be drawn from reverses. I can not say that I think the Sermon worth discussing—Mere performances of specified duty. Atterbury had too many other and worldly schemes in his head. Quiet evening.