I had drank wine enough to give me a slight head ach and it was very much increased by both the children, Louisa and the baby who were so restless as to keep us awake nearly all night. But the pain went off in the morning. At the Office where I was occupied in Accounts, and Diary which has fallen very much into Arrears. Nothing of any particular consequence. Walk and home.

Read the sixteenth and last Satire of Juvenal which does not appear to be more than a skeleton. And incidentally turned to a letter of Pliny which charmed me. I must take him up too. I must dip myself in fully into the spirit of the Latin Classics at least.

Afternoon read part of Levesque’s History of Russia during the reign of Peter the great,1 and pursued the Correspondence between Voltaire and Mad. du Deffand. It wants amusement to me in most cases. Yet Voltaire is one of the most spirited of all letter writers.

Went to the Theatre in the Evening to hear the Maid of Judah and the Woods.2 I liked it much better on this representation. The quartette at the close of the first Act, a song of her’s in the Prison Scene, and the Chorus in the Trial are what I like the best, but I still persist in my opinion that the piece as a whole wants a decided general character.

Morning cold. I went to the Office as usual and passed my time in making up my deficiency of Diary and in Accounts. It had been my purpose to do more but without success. I called at the Advocate Office and saw the Editor for a moment but he appeared to be having about him a council of persons. Mr. W. Foster and A. H. Everett. I therefore remained but an instant. Then to the Athenaeum where I called upon Persico the artist who is now here making busts of Dr. Channing and Mr. E. Everett.1 They are both good but especially the latter.

Home where I went over the 12th Satire of Juvenal again, then to Mr. Brooks’ to dine. A family party. Edward and P.C. Jr. and Mr. Frothingham, P. R. Dalton and myself. Tolerable. Home to tea. Evening quiet reading Dacre to my Wife and afterward writing a letter in answer to my father.2

Another severely cold morning. If this is a specimen we are to have a very tremendous time of it this winter. I finished this morning the novel of Dacre. Rather above the ordinary level of the books which treat of fashionable life and evidently from the hands of an experienced Stager, but after all I hardly feel as if I have employed my time when I lay down such books.

Attended divine service and heard Mr. Frothingham Luke 24. 5.6. “Why seek ye the living among the dead? He is not here but is risen.” The resurrection, but I could not fix my attention. This is a fine sub-277ject. Mr. Francis treated it in the same Church on the 28th June last. Afternoon, Mr. Greenwood. John 1. 46. “And Nathanael said unto him Can there any good thing come out of Nazareth? Philip said unto him Come and see.” Quite a discriminating Sermon upon the nature, causes and value of prejudice and the line where the indulgence of it should be made to stop. Alas, Mr. Greenwood preaches to ears which catch the rule but do not remember the exception. Prejudices no doubt are useful to sustain feeble principles, but they as often embarrass strong ones.

Dr. Barrow’s other Sermon upon the inducements to Industry as good as the last, and both very well worthy of attention from me. Finished and copied letter to my father. Evening, A. H. Everett and his Wife passed a couple of hours. Some political talk, but nothing material.