Morning cold and it clouded up with a little flurry of snow. I went to the Office, feeling somewhat relieved from my head ach although not by any means yet perfectly at ease. Engaged in Accounts. Called to see the Cashier of the Merchant’s Bank about my Discount, but he could do nothing. Collected a considerable number of Dividends and deposited them, the entries of which in my books took the rest of the morning.

Walk and home where I finished the eighth book of Livy’s History. Afternoon taken up with Mr. Dana’s Letters. I go on with this business 365monstrous slowly. Nothing of any consequence took place. Evening, quietly at home without doing or reading any thing—And Swifts Journal to Stella.

I am almost entirely given up to indolence within a few weeks and do not know when I shall escape from it. Political affairs have almost ceased to interest us, since the struggle has nearly stopped and we have nothing else to fix upon. I am pursuing my study of Swift however with the view of sharpening my weapons for the final battle in November.

This was the day regularly set apart according to custom for Fast day. It was clear but with a cold Easterly wind. I read Swift’s Journal to Stella for some time and then attended divine service and heard Mr. Frothingham. Luke 5. 36.37. “And he spake also a parable unto them; no man putteth a piece of a new garment upon an old, and no man putteth new wine into old bottles.” An explanation of the text in connexion with the attempt to keep up the Institution of a Fast, long after the occasion for it has ceased. He was bold and eloquent, unsparing in his denunciation of the abuses to which the day gave rise, whether in the change of the customs observed on the day or in the modes to which the pulpit is made to serve occasional purposes. Mr. Frothingham may be right in all of his conclusions, and he certainly is bold and honest in his eloquence, but I have a sort of sneaking kindness for a Spring fast day, even though I do not rigidly observe it. The abuses of it are doubtless many and increasing, but the world seems to want days of quiet enjoyment which our festival days are not.

Long walk with Mr. Walsh and home to dine but we were compelled to involuntary fasting by an ill dressed dinner. The Cook had forgotten the hour. Afternoon, I went again and heard Mr. Lothrop from Romans 2. 4. “Despisest thou the riches of his goodness and forbearance and long suffering; not knowing that the goodness of God leadeth thee to repentance.” An ordinary discourse—Lothrop’s manner wants impressiveness. It is artificial.

Afternoon at home continuing Swift’s Journal to Stella. A very interesting account but one by no means adding to the impressions I already entertain of the nature of politics. Evening, after the return of my Wife from Medford whither she went with her father, we paid a visit to Edward Brooks and his Wife which lasted until ten.