Morning fine. Time divided as usual. Evening at home.

I spent my time at the Office today in writing my fourth and last number of my papers upon currency but without satisfying myself. The second appeared, and Mr. Brooks expressed to me his gratification with it. I am glad any body reads them with pleasure.

J. H. Foster called to tell me that the body of poor T. B. Adams had at last arrived and I made an arrangement with him about the details of interment.

Read Philoctetes as usual. Afternoon Gibbon, and MS, but this is lazy work. Next week I must begin in earnest upon Burr. Evening very quietly at home. Lazy with Burr.

Lovely day. Time devoted to the ordinary exercises. Evening at E. Brooks’.

I began this morning a series of Sunday Morning readings which I purpose to continue with my daughter Louisa. She read today the two first chapters in the book of Genesis and committed a hymn of Dr. Watts.1 She is now old enough to begin to think for herself upon matters of conduct and I wish to instil into her a sense of right which shall help her to govern the impetuosity of her character. She is a fine child with noble powers of mind and a good heart, but like all such she has strong impulses and a fiery temper. Religious and moral affections are what I rely upon to correct these.

Attended divine service and heard Dr. Frothingham in the morning preach from Galatians 5. 7. “Ye did run well; who did hinder you that ye should not obey the truth?” Upon the discouragements under which men often relax their hold upon good. I liked the afternoon discourse the best. Matthew 9. 16. “And the rent is made worse.” A curious text upon which to work a discussion of the projects of moral reforms in the present day which have such extensive approbation and which yet are as the preacher said, calculated for the most part upon a mistaken estimate of man.

Read a discourse of Bishop Smalridge. Psalm 42. 11. “Why art thou cast down, O my Soul? and why art thou disquieted within me? Hope then in God, for I shall yet praise him, who is the health of my countenance and my God.” A text I have often read with a deep sense of its 204consoling import although I have never yet been tried by affliction. This was a sensible discourse upon the subject.

I tried Burr but failed and much dissatisfied. Evening, we went to Edward Brooks’ where we passed an hour much in the usual way.