Clear and continues very cold. Office and Auction. Evening to Edward Brooks’.
The weather seems to be now setting in for winter. After my usual time devoted to coins, I went to the Office but did not remain there long as I was attracted to an auction where were to be sold a great many things suitable for the New Year. Nothing could satisfy one more of the difficulty of the times than the rate at which things go at Auction. If a person happens to have ready money, this is the high season for it. But I am not one of those, though I was much tempted and actually did succumb in many cases. Nothing otherwise remarkable.
Home to read Oedipus. After dinner, Storch with whom I do not much get on. Studying out the President’s Message. I am afraid I cannot give the time to it which it deserves. Evening to see Edward Brooks and his Wife where we had a pleasant hour of conversation. Then home after which I wrote.
Thus finishes the year 1839 and another decimal figure will appear upon the roll of time. When I look back upon it, it presents to me the same gratifying return which has marked its predecessors. I have been happy and fortunate if under divine providence such a term may be used. I have had occasion to remember how suddenly we may be plunged in this life from one condition to another, as well in the wonderful escape from a horrible accident of my own child in May last, as in the melancholy end of my niece Fanny. My family has been unusually blessed with health and my labours such as they have been met with their full deserts. On the whole, I have only to submit myself to God in humble adoration, and in supplication that he will not deal with me according to my Offences, but will accept the tribute of a grateful heart in lieu of my unworthiness.