This weather has continued, growing if any thing better and better every day. Today was perfectly lovely. I went to the Office and was occupied in Accounts and paying bills most of my time. Nothing of any interest took place. The Newspapers have made up their course to all appearance in the same way as regards my Pamphlet as usual.1 I went to the Athenaeum and found no change.

Home after a call upon Mrs. Edes a Tenant, who has multitudes of things to complain about. Home to read Herodotus. This is the day the State Legislature assembles. Afternoon lounging over the Correspondence.

Evening, Mr. Davis came in to tea after which I went to the Concert 374of Madame Caradori. Full, but not crowded. She sung well but not so well as on Thursday. Her best thing is that piece from the Tasso of Donizetti which she sung at Gov. Everett’s. Fabj also sung very well tonight the piece from the Somnambula, but he evidently prefers patriotic songs.

A cloudy morning and disagreeably damp day but it still continues extremely mild. I went to the Office where my time was divided between accounts, paying bills and sending away packets of my Pamphlet. I directed several today to Members of the Legislature for the purpose of informing them of the subject they are to discuss. I inquired of the publisher today if they sold, and he answered affirmatively although he could not define the extent.

Home to read Herodotus. Afternoon as usual. Symptoms of an approaching head ach. Evening, at home, reading Lockhart to my Wife. After, I wished to go on with my work but found myself soon growing disabled.

I had a bad night and my cold still continues to trouble me. This morning there was a criticism in the Morning Post upon my Pamphlet. The first that has appeared. It is moderate in tone but exceedingly uncandid in spirit, depreciates the publication as much as possible.1 I was very glad however to see it and think I should have liked it far less if it had been puffing Eulogy. There is likely to be discussion of the subject in the Legislature and this will excite some notice of my pamphlet. The mode in which the Newspapers attempt to strangle things of this kind is curious, and from what I. P. Davis says to me is not entirely unnoticed in the public.

My head ach continued with little intermission all the morning but went off at dinner time. It was aggravated by the painful and very surprising news received from my Mother at Washington of the death of T. B. Adams of a fever at Fort Foster, a victim to the Florida war. I was shocked and depressed, for in the circle of those whom it has been my lot to know in life, none have recommended themselves more by an accurate performance of all the duties of life than he. I know no one out of my immediate family whom I should so much regret. Thus

it is with us in life. What shadows we are and what shadows we pursue. I had hoped to have aided this young man’s later life by keeping together for him his money affairs until they became a respectable little nucleus for a maintenance. But it was not to be.2

Afternoon as usual. Evening, reading Lockhart and a little of my work which lags.