I have passed one day in study, another in fishing and a third in laziness which is not giving a very good account of my time. But I hope soon to do better. On Thursday, I wrote to Abby and propose to continue the practise twice a week during the remainder of my stay here. Wyer called to see me on that day and was as talkative as ever, after all saying nothing whatever. A pleasant rattle. Mr. Walsh of Philadelphia1
and Mr. Daniel Brent dined with us today. The former seems to be fully disposed to come right again provided his variable temper will allow him. I do not admire his political character although his literary reputation is deservedly high. And his conversational powers are very great—perhaps by this I say too much, from an acquaintance too short; but he is certainly pleasant. My father being
much taken with the miniature of myself which I had taken for Abby, seems as I understand to express a wish that I should sit for a large portrait for him. I accordingly made arrangements with Mr. King for it.2
My father was uncommonly eloquent after dinner today, and laid himself out more forcibly than usual. When he does so, how immeasureably he rises above all others. There is no comparison.