Morning mild but rain and small snow. I went to the Office. My article upon the subject of the Collectorship appeared today,1 and is I hope the last thing of the kind, I shall be called upon to do. Occupied in writing up Arrears of Diary which have again accumulated very considerably. I appear to have a great deal of leisure and yet curiously enough, my Diary goes on with a sort of a jumping motion from week to week as if I was the busiest man alive. Nothing of particular interest. Mr. Beale called in about some money for Mrs. Adams which I paid him.

Home. The affairs at Washington are pretty much settled and the 204company dispersing. I wish I could not think that the appointment of Mr. Poinsett was a designed insult to the Antimasons. Be this as it may, at present I for one am completely neutralized. Homer. I make a little progress. Afternoon, Burnet and Forster whose observations upon Holland appear to me to be very interesting. Evening at home. My wife went to bed sick at an early hour, and I amused myself by reading Wraxall, whose Memoirs are quite curious.

Morning clear and cool. I went to the Office and was occupied in the arrears of Diary which now require something of an exertion. Mr. Walsh came in and talked and we afterwards made something of a walk. He seemed much depressed and I think with reason. I should be glad to assist him in any way but my power is feeble. I see by the Advocate of this morning that Mr. Hallett has got home. I am glad of this for it renders unnecessary all further interviews about the paper.

Home. Homer in which I now make progress. My wife has been quite unwell for some time. Afternoon, reading Burnet and Forster. The account of William the 3d. and his court is very interesting. I have not much acquaintance with his reign, but the more I see of it, the more am I satisfied that he was a very great man.

Evening out to hear Mr. Russel at a Concert, at the Masonic Temple. He sung well, and very much in a style of his own. His voice is a fine toned bass, and he puts action into his singing, which gives it effect. He wanted but one thing more to make his singing equal my conception of the best, which was expression in his countenance. On the whole I was much better pleased than I expected. Returned home by nine. My Wife did not go.

Morning fine but the season continues cold. I went to the Office and was occupied much as usual in drawing up the Arrears of my Diary. Passed some time in an attempt to get a box at the Theatre but without success. Walk. Home to read Homer, which I was in a degree prevented from doing by interruptions. Afternoon at home, reading Burnet and Forster. I am rather slow in my progress, I know not exactly how. The days are longer and yet I do not effect so much. In the 205evening, called at Mr. Frothingham’s and went with him to the Odeon to hear a Concert of the Academy of Music. The house was thronged. From bottom to top nothing but one mass of living beings. The performance consisted of a translation of Schiller’s Song of the Bell set to music, the translation by S. A. Eliot now Mayor of the City. The choir appeared to be a large one, in all not less than two hundred and fifty I should think. I thought the leading singers all defective and the chorus rather noisy than musical. The music is of Romberg a German and did not strike me. The poem of Mr. Eliot also wants poetic vigor, though a very respectable attempt. Afterwards an Ode to Harmony which was sung inharmoniously then Mr. Isenbeck on the flute whom I heard last night. An overture and a Chorus from Rossini’s Moses in Egypt which was the best thing of the evening. Home, stopping a moment only at Mr. Frothingham’s on my return.