A very beautiful day. I read a little German and a few lines of Sir Thomas More. Then to the Office where I was engaged in my usual manner. Nothing material. Attended to the purchase and transfer of the State Bank Stock—And took a walk with Edmund Quincy. He tells me that Mr. Webster if nominated by the Massachusetts Legislature is said to be about to resign, as General Jackson did. What can be more absurd? Rendering himself useless to the Country in the capacity he can serve, for the purpose of watching an ignis fatuus. For his nomination can hardly be called a pursuit.

Home. Began the volume of the Fasti of Ovid—Having finished the Metamorphoses from which I have derived considerable pleasure. He writes so much that he writes both well and ill. But his well predominates. It is not always so.

Afternoon, went out to attend a meeting of the Committee of the Middlesex Canal. Committee annually appointed to look over the Ac-54counts of the Treasurer. Mr. Chadwick, Mr. Abbot Lawrence and myself. The former and I did the work with Mr. Eddy or rather I did half of it alone. But we all signed the Certificate. This Canal is becoming very good property. But it is subject to all the vicissitudes of the popular will in this Country. Home. Evening writing and d’Israeli.

A lovely day. Wind Southerly and the Thermometer at 40° in the shade. I went to the Office. My short time this winter passes off there like a flash—Write and Accounts. No interruption but Mr. Devereux who called to settle his rent.

Walk as usual. Reflection. I feel melancholy at my waste of time and of my abilities which are at least respectable. I feel as if I was disliked in this City as well from family prejudices as from personal manners, and this feeling which has only arisen with me of late is closing me up like an oyster in my own shell. God’s will be done.

Read Ovid but made slow progress. The Fasti require some preparation to understand. Afternoon, pursued and finished the correspondence of Dr. Rush. I have read his biography in Sanderson’s Collection and find it poor and lame.1 This is remarkable coming from his native city. His own Letters supply a history of persecution which makes no figure at all in the Life. He was one of the few men who were decidedly hostile to General Washington, and his Letters will not bear publishing but they must be preserved. I wrote a long letter to my Mother.2

The weather has been moderating gradually until it has become a complete thaw. It rained today with a Southerly wind and set the Streets afloat. I went to the Office. My time taken up in writing.

Called at the Savings Bank and detained there much longer than I expected by the crowd of applications as Depositors. This is a singular and probably one of the most beneficial Institutions which we have. It contains much of the hard earned savings of the poor consolidated 55for their benefit as well as for that of the enterprising classes of the Community. I made my Deposit for the Nursery Maid of my Wife and gave notice of my intention to draw T. B. Adams’ fund next week. Then a short walk, but it rained too hard to persevere.

Met one of the granite blocks to be used for the New Court House.1 It was coming in from Quincy on a Sledge drawn by sixty seven yoke of oxen and a dozen horses. This one weighed fifty seven tons. This is the progress of American Wealth and Enterprize, and for the benefit of our town of Quincy. Read Ovid.

Afternoon. The Letters of the three brothers Lee—Men of some value during the revolution but who suffered by being involved in the crimination and recrimination of parties. Franklin was the great grievance with them. Evening, finished the Life of Sir Thomas More—An admirable character representing the true state of a virtuous hero.