This is one of those days which I am obliged to record as almost a blank in my existence. I awoke with the full feeling which precedes a 349head ach and went through the day with a regular and gradual increase of it until it forced me to bed at seven o’clock. This is a bad symptom for the commencement of the winter. I have never suffered so severely at its outset before. Nevertheless I passed an hour at the Office in writing upon the little notice of my Mother of which I am making the final sketch. And I occupied myself during the afternoon, but under these trials every thing is hard labour. The head is heavy, the hand unsteady and the whole frame feeble and languid.
Awoke this morning well. At the Office where I continued my attention to this little sketch as well as other smaller business concerns. I have now, I believe accomplished all the matters which were lying in arrears when I came to town. And nothing remains to me but such occupation as I can make.
The subject of the currency appears to be again exciting much attention and I am disposed again to make an effort upon it. This is the opportunity to be improved, and if I am at all equal to the scratch, I ought to come up to it under my own name. In conversing with Mr. Brooks upon it today he seemed to favor the idea.
After an hour of Greek and dinner, I devoted myself to writing in the afternoon which I steadily followed up my Wife being out, until eight o’clock when I joined her at Governor Everett’s. Conversation partly political, partly upon some Danish claims to the discovery of America. Home at ten.
The morning was dark and the snow fell thick and fast, it being something very like a storm. I determined upon going to the Office notwithstanding, where I was occupied in continuing my Sketch of the life of my Mother. No interruptions today.
Home where I read some of Herodotus which is gradually becoming more interesting and easy. Afternoon spent in writing upon my sketch of the Currency question. This appears if I should judge by the Newspapers to be awaking new interest so that if my attempt should ever be made it must be made now. Evening at home. Read to my Wife a part of Lockhart’s Life of Scott, rather interesting but a little too much detailed.