Arose and breakfasted, the day fair but exceedingly cold. I was shivering the greater part of the day. I spent the morning, with my mother, in light conversation. I then went and wrote my Journal. My Uncle and George went into town in the morning and my father and mother at noon, so that I was again left at home alone. I did not employ myself very usefully as I was merely engaged in reading the newspapers and studying the Presidential election. I have been habituating my mind to floating visions of comfort and grandeur. This I regret most exceedingly, but who can govern the wayward turns of the mind. I am so much more attached to the climate and manners of the South, that I have a wish to stay there which can only be gratified by his continuation in office. I will be patient and see the result. I am not very sanguine in the belief of his success. He has so much malignant opposition, so much party spirit arrayed against him that it appears to me almost impossible that he should succeed. His friends also are not as adroit as those of the other candidates.
After reading a number of newspapers, I was reading Mr. Noah’s pamphlet1
when I was suddenly interrupted by Mrs. Winthrop2
and others who came in, to look at the portraits of my Grandfather and my father.3
She is one of the Boston great ladies.
In the afternoon I spent my time principally in reading Junius. I went through the first controversy with Sir William Draper.4
As a writer, he had extraordinary power. His words are all so aptly placed and conveyed such an amazing force, his power of distinguishing the points of attack and his force in pressing conclusions drawn from his opponent’s grounds are models for controversial argument. It is my purpose this next year to pay particular attention to style. I have generally written more by the impulse of the moment and without revising any part, but as I have now by this Journal, obtained one habit, that of writing without difficulty upon almost any subject, I shall try
the hardest part of my task, that of cutting out what I have written. In this country, to a political man, a powerful controversial style is worth it’s weight in gold and to any other sort of man.
After tea as Mrs. Quincy had [resumed?] her invitation for tonight, I went with the two girls. We met a few of the Quincy magnates and spent the Evening in the usual way at Quincy. It was not an unpleasant Evening on the whole. I talked much with Miss Sophia. Miss Meg looked shy. We came off the last, walk’d, returning, took Supper and retired. XI:30.