Very cold morning. I went to the Office. Nothing very material excepting the pouring in of innumerable demands for the commencement of the year. I am almost discouraged at their extent, particularly as upon calling at the Cocheco Co’s. office I found they had postponed their Dividend a week or two. This makes it necessary for me to be prudent and gradual in paying Accounts. I continue however to pay out gradually. Nothing of any moment stirring. The political world seems exceedingly quiet.

Walk with Mr. Walsh. Home. Livy. Afternoon. Plutarch and Burnet. The old French of Amyot is somewhat crooked but I think more and more of Plutarch’s substance as I go on. This Essay on the management of public affairs seems to me to be as good as any thing I have seen in the lives.

Evening at home. M. von Tietz’s travels in Russia are rather insipidly eulogistic1 and my wife seemed so unwell today that I stopped early, after which my father’s letter to Harrison Gray Otis.2

A very cold week. Office as usual where I was occupied partly in the accounts which now keep me exceedingly engaged in the morning and partly in writing Diary, which has fallen into Arrears. Affairs seem now to go on with very little incident of any kind. Every body appears to be waiting for the commencement of the new Administration.

Received a short letter from my father written on New Year’s day, full of good wishes for me and my children but having no allusion whatsoever to the letter I had myself written.1 And yet it seems to me that it deserved a direct and extended consideration and reply.

Home. Livy. Nothing of consequence. Afternoon, Plutarch and Burnet. I like the style of the latter, incorrect and careless as it is. There is individuality about it. Read Forster in German who seems to be fond of dissertation.2

Evening to Mr. I. Sargent’s. Quite a display. The various members of his family and her’s. Cards and a Supper. We thus managed to kill the evening. Home early.