I spent my day at home very quietly, devoting a good deal of the morning to a new draught of my projected review of Grahame. I continue to write although I must know beforehand that my views do not suit the popular taste. To bend to the passions of the day appears to be the road to reputation in our country and generation, and I have studied to form myself upon a different model, the investigation of truth. Yet it is my duty to make the best use I can of my talents, if I have any, and to try to be of service in some manner.

Two hours devoted to the reading of the MS which I corrected almost to the end of the paper books.1 These make a valuable collection of which there is now a complete copy. Dined at my father’s with the family.

Afternoon, a ride accompanied by my father round Mount Wollaston to the end of the road, thence to Germantown, from there by Quincy Point round to the Weymouth Road. Evening conversation at the house, T. K. Davis and Edmund Quincy, and opinions respecting them.

Fine day but it gradually clouded up. I was occupied in the morning pretty industriously upon my proposed review which is going on slowly and not very satisfactorily. I incline to distrust of myself.

At the Mansion house where I read the Newspapers. Found my fourth number inserted but very badly printed. This is one of the vexations incident to the American Newspaper Press. Well, they are printed and will find nobody to approve of them. All parties will vote them disagreeable because they run in lines with none. Why should I trouble my head with composition when I can follow my humour so much more luxuriously in study.

Passed some time in examining old MS. Mrs. E. Everett and Mrs. Frothingham with her son Thomas came out to dine and spend two or three hours. Of course I could do little during the remainder of the day, but a few lines of the first book of Lucretius. Evening in consequence of the setting in of rain in slight showers we did not go down as usual, but I sat and read Bayle.