I both eat and drank too much for my wellbeing, yesterday. The consequence was that I did not feel in my usual good order today. My morning was taken up in reading the Exalté—An animated but rapid and rather superficial sketch of a French enthusiast placed in the midst of the scenes of the last Century towards its close.

Attended divine service and heard Mr. Frothingham all day. In the morning, a very good Sermon upon the virtues of patience. James 1. 4. “Let patience have her perfect work that ye may be perfect and entire wanting nothing.” Perhaps there is no virtue which would require more of the lessons of religion than this, for a want of it very often distinguishes those who claim a very high position in the ranks of piety. Afternoon, Matthew. 10. 34, part of 35. “Think not that I am come to send peace on earth: I came not to send peace but a sword. For I am come to set at variance.” This is one of those singular texts in the Bible upon which much misconstruction can be put. Was it supposed that the Saviour meant that his great object in coming was to produce discord, it not only would make a startling doctrine but one entirely at war with every thing that otherwise distinguishes his char-303acter and precepts. He was looking rather to the consequences which would follow in point of fact, and which eighteen hundred years of the world have since developed. The preacher showed why the doubt that has been entertained of the benefits of the dispensation as compared with this mass of evil is groundless.

Read also a Discourse of Atterbury’s. Mark 16. 20. “And they went forth and preached every where; the Lord working with them and confirming the word with signs following.” The subject was miracles as being the most proper mode of spreading the truth, 1. by the common opinion of mankind respecting them, 2. by the general nature of them as evidence, 3. by the peculiar properties they possess for this purpose.

Evening quiet at home. Read the remainder of Desodry. It is an instructive book by presenting in strong contrast the two characters, one founded upon the practice of general principles without regard to system, the other upon the adoption with enthusiasm of particular theories.

Morning clear but uncommonly cold for the Season—A sharp frost. I read Helen, a novel by Miss Edgeworth. After a lapse of many years she has ventured with a new work. I am much pleased with the beginning of it and give her credit at once for maintaining her interest in the style.

Office, finished the first volume of Jefferson and was occupied with T. B Adams’ Accounts for the half year. Then a walk. Afternoon at home. Tried to work upon my new scheme but failed and concluded to give it up as a bad job. I must take Macbeth’s motto and let chance crown me without my stir.1

Read Helen by way of relaxation from my graver studies which now turn out to have been disorganized without any sort of benefit to come from it. Evening, went down to Mr. Frothingham’s where my Wife had taken tea. Mr. Brooks was there. Conversation upon the philanthropic schemes of the present day. Returned at ten.

Pleasant morning. I rode to Quincy. Found things much in the same State, but as there was nothing to be done, I felt my time heavy upon my hands. There is a sort of cheerlessness about the lonely appearance 304of an uninhabited Country house before vegetation bursts forth that discourages. And this old house without the large family which I have always seen in it, strikes me as peculiarly dismal. I have no schemes for it’s improvement this year. No objects because I know not when we shall occupy it. The politics of the Country are as unsettled as ever.

Returned to town to dinner and as Abby had gone to Medford with her father, I dined at Mr. Frothingham’s—Sociably and pleasantly enough. Home. Continued Beechy’s narrative of his Voyage. His literary talent is not so good as that of Parry or Franklin.1 My wife returned late. Quiet evening at home.