I am this day thirty years old. Half of the ordinary period of man’s life is gone, and I am as yet somewhat of a drone upon the earth’s surface. My position is one of some delicacy and difficulty. But in looking back over the past year I have much to be thankful for and nothing to repine at. My situation is the same as it was at the outset but I feel that the time has not been entirely wasted either for myself or for others. May a Kind providence still continue to vouchsafe to me and mine evidences of its bounty, such as I do not pretend to merit but will 298endeavour to prove worthy of. Happy as I have been during the first half of my pilgrimage, I look forward with hope and fear to the other.

Went to town in a drizzling mist. At the Office where I wrote to Mr. Hallett a final letter stopping my subscription.1 I have adopted this course as an alternative the most mild towards him and yet sufficient to preserve my consistency. I regret that it has happened because I had been accustomed to regard that press as the most independent and the most friendly to my father of all those in the State, and such is the state of things I can hardly look to any other for support in case of emergency. This is however degenerating so rapidly into a violent ultra radical Administration paper that it might be more productive of harm than good. At any rate, this is a decisive step on my part.

The remainder of my day taken up in commissions tolerably numerous. Then home to dinner. Afternoon, after the usual visit to the house and road, I occupied myself with Humboldt and Lessing. But symptoms of head ach which developed themselves early in the morning became so decided by an early hour of evening that I slipped away from the family and went to bed.

Morning clear after a warm fog, which portended a hot day, but the wind came to the eastward and prevented it. I made my usual visit to the House which will not be finished today as the carpenter had expected. There is now however so little to be done that I am not detained long, and I returned soon with a positive determination to sit down and do something in the way of a dissertation upon the currency. I began and wrote freely for an hour or two, only interrupted by a visit to the water for the purpose of bathing which was refreshing.

After dinner I never find that I write to please myself, the ideas come with more labour and with far less neatness in words. Finished the second volume of Humboldt’s New Spain which has much valuable information respecting the Northwest coast. Evening at home. Loto with the children who thus pass an hour quietly.

Morning clear but quite cool, the easterly winds prevailing very much. I spent some time in writing in continuation of my beginning of 299yesterday, and then attended divine service, and heard Dr. Francis Parkman of Boston preach from Ephesians 4. 28. “Let him that stole, steal no more, but rather let him labour, working with his hands the thing which is good, that he may have to give to him that needeth.” The injunction not to steal is of course to be explained away in this text, inasmuch as few congregations would at this day feel flattered or even listen with patience to an application of it’s literal purport. But the preacher extends its force to all acts of injustice or oppression arising from a love of money. He then exhorts to industry as the second part of his subject which leads to charity as the third. A very good discourse.

Afternoon, from Psalms 37. 25. “I have been young and now am old, yet have I not seen the righteous forsaken nor his seed begging bread.” Some examination of the difference between a general and a special providence, denying the possibility of the latter consistently with the idea of the Deity, with a view of our present condition, occasioned by our own faults and follies, and yet so eminently prosperous in being free from all wars, diseases and other fearful convulsions. Dr. Parkman dined with us today.

Afternoon, read a sermon of Sterne upon the parable of Lazarus and the rich man. Luke 16. 31. “And he said unto him, If they hear not Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded though one should rise from the dead.” A charity sermon in the style of that author.

Evening, Mr. Degrand from Boston with two friends, Mr. Clapp and Mr. Pedrick, the former a conceited fellow who edits a paper very goodnaturedly, the latter an ignorant, harmless kind of man. Also, J. Quincy Jr. with E. C. Adams and Miss Miller, George Foster and Charles Miller. Nothing new.