Morning at the Office and in Court. Little or nothing going on and I feel excessively tired of lounging. No letters from home yet. Nothing remarkable took place of any kind. My time is taken up pretty much. In my attendance at Court I am surprised at the absence of every thing 356like agreeable speaking at our Bar. I am aware of the defect, but whether I could do better is a very doubtful point with me. I hope to attempt it at least. In the evening, I paid attention to Mr. Pope.
Received a long letter from my father this morning, giving his account of the new administration. I was much entertained with it, though its tone from some unaccountable reason or other contributed to depress my spirits considerably. I did not remain in Court this morning and therefore occupied myself in my room as well as I could. Afternoon, wrote a letter to my Mother though she has not sent me a line for a month. Then took a walk which was not very agreeable from the severe cold. The weather continues uncommonly harsh for the season. Evening, Moot Court. No argument, and adjourned for the Season.
Morning cold. Attended divine Service at the Church on Federal Street and heard Mr. Gannet deliver a tolerably good Sermon upon Prejudices. It suited me on the whole much better than any I have heard from him. After dinner I started for Medford. I reached the Turnpike in pretty good condition and had just reached a Snow bank when my Axle gave way, which put a stop to my proceeding. After some trouble I obtained another Chaise and went on. I thought myself lucky in getting off so cheap. I felt grateful to Heaven though some people think a special Providence is the creation of a vain spirit. I do not. I reached Medford rather later than usual, and spent the rest of the day much as usual.
Morning cloudy. Returned to town rather late in order to give time for my Gig to be repaired. I found it ready at Charlestown. Misfortunes however never come single. As I was passing a truck my wheel came too near and turned me over on the pavement without any ceremony. I was not hurt and went on. But I have cause to thank heaven again that I was quit with the fright. My life might have paid the forfeit of my imprudence, though I really did not see what occasioned the shock. But the roads are very dangerous and I feel little or no desire to see more of them than I can help. I felt my bruises all day however and the thing affected me with low spirits. I did little or nothing in the 357morning and in the afternoon, wrote a letter to my father. Evening at home reading the Disowned.1
A novel by Bulwer-Lytton, London, 1829.