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

The day was brighter, and our weather generally has been singularly mild. No letter from my father which surprises me. I have been upon the point of a speculation in the Stock of the United States Bank but it was broken off this morning as we could not agree as to price. Perhaps considering the state of French affairs this is fortunate. I must wait to see the operation of these upon the Stock when the news of the reception of the President’s Message in Paris gets here.

Mr. Walsh was at my office nearly all the morning. He has kept pretty clear of me since I presented him his bill for Office Rent, but today he fed me with promises. He is nevertheless a very intelligent man and his conversation contains ideas, which is not universal.1 I was restricted in my time for a walk. Home, reading Ovid. Finished the second book of the Fasti. Afternoon I felt indolent and therefore avoided assorting Papers. Amused myself with d’Israeli and finished Beckford. John Gorham was here and passed the evening.