Morning quite warm. I went to the Office after my usual amusement with the children. Time taken up in Diary, Accounts, going about the town to find mechanics unemployed in order to mend my rainwater spout. This is among the curious symptoms of the present times that all the laboring classes are perfectly independent. After some difficulty I found one.
To the Athenaeum where I rummaged over a paper or two, but found nothing useful or profitable. Home, Livy—The battle of Thrasymene. Afternoon, worked away upon the MSS. until I got weary and then gave it up in a pet. Sat down to Ariosto and Forster’s Journey—This is far more agreeable. Evening at home.
I continued to write upon Webster’s letter which is a prolific sub-386ject. I do not know what the end of it all will be but I foresee that my share is not worth much. At any rate I will do my best to the end, and if my success is not great, let the result be as it will, I think it cannot fail to turn out well for the Country. If the Whig party in Massachusetts is put down, so much the better. If on the other hand, it barely keeps a superiority, then is there good to be derived from that. Perhaps my most fortunate position would be when the parties were precisely balanced. But I must seek in other occupations for more agreeable ideas than the dirty work of party presents.