Morning clear and mild. But the snow gives altogether a different aspect to the Country and chills the air to a very different temperature from what it would otherwise be. I went to the Office and passed my 271time a little more profitably. Read part of Rousseau’s Contrat Social besides writing Diary and Accounts as usual.

Called on Stephen Brown the broker and asked him to sell for me one share in the Merrimack Manufacturing Company. I dislike so much the appearance of public affairs that I have concluded to realize on this Speculation. Manufactures may continue to flourish, but I have quite enough from which to draw benefit besides.

Walk and home. Juvenal. Thirteenth Satire. Afternoon, I began over again upon my Grandfather’s Papers. These drag on heavily. But I mean to do the work sometime or other. I picked up some Autographs among them. Evening quietly at home. Read the biographical notices of Titian, Claude and Boccaccio. Afterwards at work upon the last of my three numbers.

Fine clear morning and pleasant though cool. I went to the Office. Time occupied in writing and in Accounts. Engaged in answering and dispatching Notes, as well as a few more of my Pamphlets which still hang on my hands. My number on the Presidency appeared in this morning’s Paper.1 I believe for once with the aid of my correcting the proof, it is printed without a mistake. It reads pretty well.

Walk and then home where I was delighted with the thirteenth Satire of Juvenal. Afternoon at work upon the MSS. A very wearying occupation. I got through with a re-examination of all the old ones, and now I must prepare what I have already done for binding. Read Madame du Deffand and Voltaire, with a very little of Coleridge which appeared to me very flat and uninteresting. I wonder how it is some people can lash themselves into so great enthusiasm about him. Evening, T. K. Davis came in and spent a couple of hours. Conversation as usual but nothing new. I afterwards read a little of the life of Peter, but no work.

Morning quite unusually cold for this season of the year. I went out but did not remain long at the Office as I wished first to go to the Athenaeum and afterwards to join my Wife in a visit to the Painting 272rooms of Messrs. Alexander and Harding. I procured at the first place two or three new books which I look over as a kind of amusement. Mr. Harding has been painting Mrs. T. B. Adams, a picture as good as any that he paints and which only makes one turn away from the vanity of all such matters. Mr. Alexander has been taking a picture of Edward Brooks’ little daughter which is tolerably pretty. But I think such things are rather foolish indulgences for features change and if the picture is not itself good, it becomes but so much wood and canvass.

Home to read Juvenal. Afternoon, amused myself part of the time in reading and part in copying some old MSS which are important to the reputation of my grandfather. He was one of the battered characters of the day. Evening Read to my Wife aloud from Dacre, a fashionable novel,1 until nine when we went to a party at Mr. Edward Miller’s. Company very mixed and not very entertaining to me. Home early.