Morning at the Office. Day clear but cool with an East wind. Wrote a letter to my Mother which I propose to be the last which I shall send. Their silence and perfect indifference to arrangements at Washington puzzles me extremely. Went to see Abby but felt exceedingly low spirited, as my doubts about myself again arise. I am coming to the point so that my mind ought to be braced up to it. Afternoon. Commenced reading Clarendon1
and was much struck with the style of the Preface. Rode to Medford with Abby this evening. But I felt very singularly all the evening.