Morning clear and cold. I went to the Office. Engaged the greater part of my time in Accounts, and Diary. Wrote a letter to Mr. T. B. Johnson in answer to his and the questions asked respecting invest-352ments.1 Then called in to see Mr. Hallett and found him at last.

Conversation on a multiplicity of subjects connected with the present state of politics. The quarrels here are finally subsiding. The Custom House party have carried the day in their County organization, and have thus put a stop to the opportunity of their giving trouble while the questions of nominations are concerned. Mr. Hallett on his side is denounced by them and perhaps this may be a useful breach. I asked Mr. H. about the information from Washington respecting Col. Johnson, he said it was not encouraging. The opposite party in this State are also much distracted respecting Mr. Everett and the Electoral ticket. There are today indications of a disposition to delay until the autumn, which will hardly mend the matter much. They are in a painful predicament here. But on the other hand, the prospects of the Opposition are certainly brighter than they were. They have rallied upon Harrison most surprisingly and I said to Mr. H. that I feared if the policy pursued by the Globe towards Pennsylvania was followed up in the matter of the Bank of the United States, it would not only give Harrison tremendous headway but would shake Van Buren to the foundation.

Mr. H. then intimated that Mr. Everett had written from Washington that my father was dissatisfied with the articles of the Advocate upon the United States Bank, and I seized the opportunity to press the idea upon him that we are upon a barrel of gunpowder respecting that. This is a tender subject between us and I felt we had better pass it. However it must occasionally be renewed to show that the compromise is still understood to exist.2 This was one of the meetings with Mr. Hallett which show me how difficult my path is, and which almost disgust me with the whole business of politics. Home late.

Afternoon, copied letter to Mr. Johnson, finished the first volume of Niebuhr and read a little of de la Motte Fouqué. Mr. Brooks took tea. Opera, Cinderella—Dandini Mr. Brough, very well. Johnson has also improved much in the Baron. Mr. Wood was very hoarse as the Prince. The music of this piece after that of the Somnambula sounds thin and poor, covered up with ornament to conceal it’s baldness. I was particularly struck with this in the Choruses. Yet the Quintette at the close of the first Act and the duett as well as the finale are fine. Home and retire. My answer to Slade began today.3

Nothing of particular interest today. Clear and cold—Office where I executed my usual duties and listened to a half hour’s discourse by Mr. Walsh. Then to the Athenaeum where I got engaged in reading a most scarifying notice of N. P. Willis and his productions, in Fraser’s Magazine.1 The abuse is coarse beyond measure but the censure is not undeserved. I lost my walk and part of my hour for Livy which is a little too bad. Perhaps my most usefully spent time is in reviewing and reflecting upon the Roman republic—A mine of experience for the stormy days of our popular ocean.

Afternoon, I made up the loss and then sat down to write over some part of my last letter to Slade, but it does not yet satisfy me and I must, I fear write it all over. The political world is a busy one, but under the sort of coventry which I experience, it is a very uninteresting one to me. My papers appear to me to produce little or no effect. They are cited neither by Whigs nor their opponents. Well, patience. I will look to my duty and let that satisfy me. Evening, quietly, reading Madame Junot after which Montagne.

Morning cloudy with snow. I went to the Office—Time uninterrupted but I accomplished very little. Diary and Accounts—Nothing else. I waste much very valuable time. Walk which was rather short. Met T. Dwight who is an amusing man as a companion. That family are a singular one for their modes of thought. In this State and throughout its limits, there is a peculiar class with a distinct character marked in a manner not to be mistaken. One would suppose that Toryism could be nothing else even in it’s remotest ramifications.

Home to read Livy. Afternoon, wrote over again my third and last number to Mr. Slade. This set does not satisfy me, and the reason is that they turn upon personal discussions rather than principles. I finished with it and have now done, as I hope for months. The mode of publication by Mr. Hallett renders me very unwilling to resort to it 354any more, until again desired, in an urgent manner. Evening, a family party at Mr. Frothingham’s—Judge Lyman and Mrs. Henshaw, Governor Everett and his Wife, Edward Brooks and ourselves. It was very dull.