A cold morning. I went to the Office, that is to say I get there at about eleven o’clock after I have been to the National Insurance Co. rooms and read the papers. Mr. Walsh came in and talked some time and I went out to take a walk, so that I only executed a little of my Diary. It is rather dull now, and pays nothing for the labour of keeping, but my spirits appear to be relieved and that is a great thing.
Livy. My Wife went to Jamaica Plains to dine with Mrs. Gorham, and Mr. Walsh and I had a tète a tète. Afternoon, Plutarch and I resumed Burnets Memoirs of his own time which I have twice before began and failed to finish.1 Mr. Brooks was here for a minute at tea. Afterwards, finished the Travels to Norway and afterwards read Goguet. It was cold.