My morning was passed as usual. At the Office busy in my Diary which I at last brought up to its proper position, and in Accounts. I have sold enough to clear off the draught based upon the New England Co’s shares and a little more, and I propose to go on with the sales as the Market will bear them. I finished the business with the Life Office and on the whole felt considerably easier than heretofore. Although my mind was anxious from my eldest child’s appearing unwell. On returning home I advised sending for a physician but after dinner, she seemed much better. I took my walk and read Ovid as usual. Afternoon, the Official Correspondence of Mr. Jay and the period of my grandfather’s residence in England. Edward Brooks came in to see Abby and we conversed a little while. In the evening I began 35a new book of Miss Austen’s.1 Finished Emilia Galotti, which is a piece of much power. The plot is rather bald, but well put together and the catastrophe affecting, excepting that virtue suffers and vice goes unpunished.

Morning dark with occasional snow but it cleared away afterwards. I went to the Office and was busy quietly there in doing little however which was very material. Wrote my Diary, went over my Accounts and owing to the weather passed my time without my usual walk. Received a letter doubtful but inclining to a return tomorrow, from Mr. Brooks at Philadelphia.1 Called at Edward Brooks’ office to show this to him and then home.

Read my usual portion of Ovid which pleased me. As I go on I feel more pleased with these books. There is an elegance, a grace in the Greek Mythology which takes off all the strangeness of it. The stories have every sort of extravagance and not a little coarseness in substance and yet there is none of it visible in the flowing lines of the author of the Metamorphoses.

In the Afternoon I pursued the Correspondence of R. R. Livingston whose merit is certainly great but who seems not to have been very amiable in his style. I suspect he and my grandfather were not calculated to agree very well together. Evening quiet at home, reading to my Wife.

The morning was cloudy and mild but it grew clear and cold until it became one of the severest days we ever have. By sunset the Thermometer had fallen to zero. I attended divine service all day.

Mr. Frothingham in the morning. Ecclesiasticus 43. 17.18. “As birds flying he scattereth the snow. The eye marvelleth at the beauty of the whiteness thereof, and the heart is astonished at the raining of it.” Mr. Frothingham quotes Apocrypha and preaches occasional Sermons half the time. If he does the one he ought to do the other for neither doctrine nor moral of the Christian religion can well be drawn from spurious books. But I confess I hold my doubts of the expediency of either in the degree he does them. The fact is that he 36has met with more attention and success in addressing his people upon subjects in connexion with some forcible external impression acting upon their minds at the moment and has therefore indulged in that which was thus shown to be to their taste. After all however, his discourses are rather beautiful Essays upon some little incidental topic than religious or moral Christian discourses for the improvement of the mind and the affections.

In the afternoon Mr. Motte from 2 Kings 5. 12 “Are not Abana and Pharpar rivers of Damascus better than all the waters of Israel? May I not wash in them and be clean? So he turned and went away in a rage.” A singular text but he managed it with some adroitness and though his manner does not recommend him, he fixes the attention. The simplicity of Christianity a motive in many minds for its rejection. The often repeated theory of the religion of nature like Abana and Pharpar has been maintained to be better than the waters of Israel. Yet these alone can cure the leprosy of sin.

After my return I was about to proceed in my usual occupations, when first Mr. and Mrs. Kirk and afterwards the arrival of Mr. Brooks and Miss Gray disarranged them. They very fortunately for themselves decided to return before the Sunday and thus have avoided the great severity of this night together with the possible inconvenience of a land journey. They look well and seem much gratified with their Journey. I did however before going to bed read a Sermon of Barrow’s as usual. Text from 1 Timothy 4. 8. “But Godliness is profitable for all things.” He divides his discourse into heads, each showing some particular advantage of religion. But he quibbles a little upon the word profitable, commencing by a long sentence upon the avidity of man in quest of profit meaning by that money, and then running up a series of items in which he urges the pursuit of other profit, that is the advantages by him enumerated which make godliness or piety desirable. He is nervous in detached paragraphs both in thought and style.