Dark and gloomy morning. The child seemed quite unwell and my spirits were as much depressed as I ever knew them to be. The only feeling which I have in life now centers in my children and when I see either of them suffering it is terrible to me. I ought to teach myself a lesson of patience upon this subject. I will try to address myself to a higher power for support in this weakness.

At the Office in heavy rain. Wrote out my Accounts for the month of January and then read a part of the great Thellusson cause in the Chancery Reports. This man alienated his property from his descendants during the lives of all those then in being and such as should be living within legal time afterwards, at the expiration of which time the accumulation to be divided into three parts, one to go to the eldest lineal male descendant of each branch of his family, he having three sons. This unnatural will was sustained by the Chancellor against every principle of equity in my humble opinion.1

Home. After dinner, continued the letters of the Willinks and those from the Treasury. Mr. John Davis is elected as I foresaw he would be by the House of Representatives.2 Much good may it do him. The indication of the State of feeling on the part of the Webster party is decisive. Evening finished the first volume of the second series of d’Israeli. Some curious things. Read also an Essay of Clarendon’s upon patience in adversity. This was a good lesson to me. I reflected upon what he had suffered and his situation when writing it, and I concluded to read three or four Psalms which comforted me. Finished Goethe’s Götz von Berlichingen which was too hard to be agreeable.

Morning fine. The Child seemed better and my spirits accordingly grew very much brighter. I went to the Office and was engaged there in reading the remainder of the Thellusson cause, which did not edify me proportionately. I do not see the merit of these intricacies of the English Law. Walk as usual. No letter from my father at which I am somewhat surprised. Perhaps he did not get my letter. Returned home and read Ovid in the second book of the Fasti.

Afternoon, looked over letters, the handwriting of which was so cramped that it hurt my eyes to read and I left off to run over the fair page of Beckford’s book of Travels—An old thing of 1780 just published.1 It has not lost much of it’s interest. The world has grown somewhat commonplace since, what with Steamboats, Railroads and Mr. McAdam. Evening d’Israeli. I am still dull. Read some Psalms.

Morning heavy rain. I went to the Office. Began a book of Wieland’s but did not like it’s tone and character and gave it up. It appears to me 65rather too light. My time at the Office was taken up in writing. Began something upon the subject of education which I propose to pursue for a little while and see if I can make anything of it.1 I will not be absolutely idle even if I produce nothing of consequence. I will keep my hand exercised in the important business of writing and what is more will try to write as well as I can. This will not be amiss at sometime or other. The great means of attaining style is the practice.

I did not walk today on account of the rain. Afternoon finished looking over the letters of the Bankers and put them together in order. They in connection with the orders from the Treasury will form a volume. Read more of Beckford. A book of little substance. Evening, d’Israeli and an Essay of Clarendon, he does not shine much in this department. I felt better today. Wrote a letter to my Mother.2