Morning a dull fog which terminated towards night in rain. John seems much oppressed by a cold on his lungs and awakened anxiety. This weather is of the worst kind for children, and always makes me feel a little melancholy. Office and thence to an auction where I made only one or two purchases for my Quincy house.
Nothing but a page or two of Sismondi which has been so broken as to make me lose much of it’s value. Home to Sophocles. Finished 399today the Oedipus, a master piece of tragic art. Masculine, simple and yet highly pathetic. There is nothing so worthy of study to form the taste as the ancients. Afternoon, Aristotle whose ideas upon Government are many of them strong and sound, but they are mixed up with strange fancies. Yet even he has the germs of much of our boasted modern discoveries. Evening, played backgammon and afterwards Potter.