A mild day after heavy rain, not so healthy weather as the cold. I went to the Office and was busy there most of my morning in writing 60upon my third number which treats more particularly of the prospects of Mr. Webster. The Legislature last evening actually nominated him as a candidate for the Presidency. The game is up for Massachusetts.

I took a long walk which fatigued me unusually. The unusual temperature of the air at this Season is very relaxing. Home continued Ovid but read little of it, for Miss Mary Hall and Edward Brooks dined with us. Afternoon went through the letters of La Fayette some of which are characteristic and interesting.

Evening read the first volume of Hamilton’s book upon America.1 A conceited Englishman who was treated too civilly by us to be good for any thing. His Remarks are many of them just on the principle that you may often hear truth from an Enemy. But he is arrogant, flippant and exceedingly misled by the company he keeps, having no power to see through their motives and feelings, nor of judging between contradictory statements.

Cooler but still unusually mild. I went to the Office and from thence to the Theatre to obtain Tickets of admission for tonight but without success. The Bostonians are always in a fever when they are not in Ice. They will give five dollars to see an Actor or Actress in January and in March if she comes again they will desert her unanimously.

I returned to the Office and finished my No. 3 upon Mr. Webster’s prospects which I carried to the Press. The arguments developed in that paper strike me as perfectly unanswerable. Yet the greatest good fortune that could happen to my prospects would be that they should pass off unrecognized and unnoticed.

Walk but not so long as usual. The Child Louisa appeared to droop a good deal today. This always makes me anxious and I have felt in other respects very low spirited. It has been a misfortune to me that I did not live at home this winter. I there felt called upon to make exertion and maintain a station in Society. Ovid, but I have got tired of the learned Frenchman.

Afternoon, looking over Miscellaneous papers of no consequence. My Grandfather kept even Notes of Invitation. Evening, read to my Wife from the Correspondence of Hannah More.1 Rather interesting from the Company she kept, but a leetle too much blueism.2 I continued tonight Götz von Berlichingen.