Clear with a cool Easterly wind. I worked today with considerable effect upon my review of Hutchinson. I find the matter flows in upon me abundantly. The great difficulty is to know what to choose. I leave that for hereafter and strike now while the iron is hot.
I took a bath with my brother at the Wharf and found it quite pleasant. Read Journals with my father for a short time. But they want Interest just at present. Afternoon began copying the material Letters of the Correspondence I have been assorting out. Finished one and a half and read the fourth Eclogue of Virgil, the Pollio, a burst of poetry which is wonderful but the cause of which I find no satisfactory explanation of. Our Commentators are fond of twisting every thing into an announcement of the coming of the Saviour. I own I see no foundation for it. Virgil appears to have been unacquainted with the Hebrew Prophets who foretold his coming.
Evening. Conversation with my father upon the subject of the early Revolutionary War. Afterwards with the Ladies. My father’s health concerns us all very deeply.