Morning damp and cloudy again. I read a little of the Life of Vasari, and then went to the Office. My time was taken up as it often is in the close of one month and the beginning of another, by Accounts. My expenditure requires some attention as it has latterly somewhat exceeded its proper limits. And as I have received some intimation that my Stock in the Manufactures of the Country is not likely to yield any thing in future at least for a time, I suppose it will be expedient to draw in as much as possible. I accomplished a portion of Gibbon containing a Summary of the latter part of the History of the Western Empire.
Afternoon. Read Sismondi finishing the first volume with the account of Queen Brunehault, who seems to have had a tolerable share of the vices of her age. To a philosophical mind it seems not a little curious to look back over the past, and perceive the worthlessness of man in most of the situations where he is tried. Power is a much harder thing to struggle with than misery. For the latter prevents the execution of many vices which the former may indulge. But a truce to reflection.
I was engaged in going over my Library, one side of which I nearly finished. Nothing of any consequence occurred. Had a call from Mr. Rufus Davis which I got rid of as soon as possible. I have not seen his phiz for a long while. Quiet evening at home. I. Hull went to Quincy.