Diary of Charles Francis Adams, volume 3

Thursday. 31st.

Saturday. 2d.

January. 1830. Friday 1st. CFA January. 1830. Friday 1st. CFA
January. 1830. Friday 1st.

The morning of the New Year broke bright and clear, though much colder than it had been heretofore. It is usually with me the season of reflection upon the past and the future. I have little to say in regard to the former for Circumstances have already occurred in the Interval since last year, in which I fully explained my feelings in regard to it. I commence this year in a new and responsible relation, and I look now to the future with more anxiety. My own feelings have nothing in them which I can condemn. I endeavour to keep up to the line of duty which my rigid sense of propriety marks out, and though not conscious yet of failure, the dread of it hangs still heavy on my mind. It is not probable that at any future time, I shall enjoy so fully the satisfaction of a contented mind as I now do. For the future is bright, beyond the possibility of realization.

I was busy all the morning in making up my Accounts against the different Tenants and sending them out. Mr. Lewis called upon me to settle the rent and I asked him what he thought the House would 122in future be worth. He gave me very little encouragement to expect it would be even what I had fixed it. He paid me his balance due in full, and took his final leave. Degrand called to know if I wished to make an Investment in some Stock tomorrow to which I assented, and gave him the necessary instructions to that effect. I arranged my own Accounts during the Month and paid myself the Quarterly Allowance due on this day to me by my Father.

Returning home, found my Wife quite unwell and comfortless. This was not at all pleasant. After dinner I went upstairs and read Aeschines as usual—Nothing of interest occurring. Evening passed in reading to my Wife a part of Clarissa Harlowe in which we go along quite slowly. She was so unwell that she retired early and I sat two hours writing upon the subject of Eloquence. I was satisfied with what I did when I left off, but there is no possibility of telling how I shall like it when I look over it again. The day passed more quietly to me than any New Year’s day I have passed for many years.