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.

Fine day. I went to the Office rather earlier than usual and was engaged in writing up my Arrears of Diary as well as drawing the Lease for Mr. Ladd. He has given me a great deal of trouble and at last got me so indifferent that I threatened to turn him out. This brought him to reason and he has taken the House on a Lease of three years, which he executed today. He kept me so long that I could not take my walk.

Afternoon, reading Bacon and Adam Smith—The former in the History of Winds, a collection of observations formed into system, with his peculiar power of induction. Began the Andrian of Terence, a new walk of classical Literature for me.1 Mr. French called upon me with some of the French papers relating to Masonry, and requested me to translate them. I did so this afternoon. It is a little curious that one of them relates to a female Masonic Lodge in Paris, the nature of which is not very completely defined. Evening, Patronage, and Adam Smith.

Mild, winter day. I went to the Office. Engaged in writing and had a visit from Mr. Walsh, who conversed as usual upon the troubles of the money department which seem to be growing greater instead of 254less. Took a walk. Nothing else of material consequence. Walk. Afternoon, Bacon History of Winds, Adam Smith and Terence.

My time slips away so very quietly now that I hardly perceive its passage. Its uniform course leaves little to remember and therefore little to record. Evening. J. W. Gorham came in and spent an hour. He is studying medicine here but does not seem to have much foundation. Patronage and a few pages of Adam Smith.