Cooler but a clear, fine air better than that of the two last days. I went to the Office and passed my time partly in my usual avocations and partly in reading Mr. A. H. Everett’s Europe which he has lately presented to me.1 An old story by this time, but one which contains speculations of much value.

Received a letter from my Mother2 acknowledging the receipt of mine and mentioning my father’s state of health as quite alarming. And yet the letter is the most cheerful I have received this winter. 382I am therefore doubtful what to think about the matter. My mother like all women often deals in superlatives which she does not feel. I hope that is the case now.

Walk. Home, read Livy. Afternoon, Sismondi and Ariosto. I must go back to the Manuscripts which I am shamefully neglecting. Fouqué. Evening quietly at home, reading Madame Junot, the last chapter of which we have reached. I afterwards read several of Swift’s Pamphlets, but the views I have taken of politics are so much clouded that I am beginning to lose all my zest for them. What a penny halfpenny business it has got to be.

Cold and clear. I went to the Office—Time passed partly in writing Diary and Accounts, partly in reading Mr. Everett’s Europe. Politics look blacker than ever. There is at last an open breach in the democratic ranks between the Morning Post and the Worcester paper, the result of which appears to be an entire prostration of the possible chance of success in the Autumn. What a wretched business, and yet in the mean time the Advocate is dealing in twaddle about the Orange Lodges and so forth.1 There is no guiding such a paper with any view to great results. It prefers to write an article of buffoonery about our militia system to the best Essay upon the interests of the Country, and this is the taste of the people. Well, no wonder their politics are in so entangled a state.

Walk and then to read Livy, the account of that wonderful passage across the Alps which Hannibal accomplished. How refreshing it is to turn back and look at the past disencumbered of all the littlenesses of life. Joseph H. Adams dined with us. Afternoon, Sismondi, Ariosto and Fouqué–Nothing new and the MS still neglected. Evening, my Wife and self to a small party at Mrs. Carter’s, only about twenty. Dancing on the Carpet, rather pleasant. Home late.

Cool morning but clear. I went to the Office and was occupied all the morning in Accounts, Diary and reading Mr. Everett’s publication. 383Mr. Forbes came in about the horses and urged a settlement. He appears to be very confident and has in fact got me pretty much in a corner. I shall remember it. My last resource will be in his own surgeon, a poor one enough.

Walk and Athenaeum. Home, Livy, Speeches of Scipio and Hannibal. Afternoon, I got courage and worked upon the MSS. Ariosto and Fouqué, nothing of any consequence. My Wife was not well and went to bed. I went to my study and wrote.

Began a series of papers for the Advocate. The fact is that the current is running now somewhat on the Whig side, and the differences in the Jackson party here are taking an alarming shape. I do not care, because like Hamlets, my purpose is almost blunted.