Friday.—­To-day by invitation I attended the first meeting of the new class and heard the introductory lecture.  Mr. D. began by speaking of the object of the formation of the class.  I shall adopt the first person in writing what he said, though I do not pretend to give his words.  I have not invited you here to amuse an idle hour, or to afford you a topic of conversation when you meet.  One great design has been to cherish in you a love of home and of solitude.  Yet this is not all, for of what advantage is it to be at home, unless home is a place for the unfolding of warm affections? and of what use is solitude, unless it be improved by patient thought, self-study and a communion with those great minds who became great by thinking.  But it is not merely thinking as an operation of the intellect that is necessary; it must be affectionate thinking; there must be heartfelt love, and this can be attained only by a habit of loving....  I would not impart sternness to the beautiful countenance of English literature.  Beautiful indeed it is, but not like the beauty of the human face, that may be discovered by all who have eyes to look upon it; the heart as well as the head must engage, or as Coleridge says, the heart in the head.  Let us not approach with carelessness or light-mindedness.  Poetry requires a peculiar state of mind, a peculiar combination of mental and moral qualifications to be feelingly apprehended.  But there—­I will not write a word more.  It is a shame to spoil anything so beautiful.  Poor Mr. Dana!  I hope he will never know to what he has been subjected.

Wednesday.—­Everybody has set out to invite me to visit them.  I made two visits last evening, one to Mrs. Robinson, where I had a fine opportunity to settle some of my Hebrew difficulties with Prof.  R., and saw De Wette’s translations of Job.  This evening I am to make two more, and to-morrow I spend the day out and receive company in the evening.  So much for dissipation, and for study.

PORTLAND, March 1, 1836.

I believe there is scarcely any branch of knowledge in which I am so deficient as history, both ecclesiastical and profane.  I have never been much interested facts, considered simply as facts, and that is about all that is to be found in most historical works.  The relations of facts to each other and of all to reason, in other words, the philosophy of history, are not often to be found in books, and I have not hitherto been able to supply the want from my own mind. April 16, 1836.—­If my bump of combativeness does not grow it won’t be for want of exercise.  I have had another dispute of two hours’ length to-day with another person.  Subjects, Cousin—­Locke—­innate ideas—­idea of space—­of spirit-life, materialism—­phrenology—­Upham—­wine—­alcohol—­etc.

June.—­My patience has been sorely tried this afternoon.  I was visiting and Coleridge was dragged in, as it seemed for the express purpose of provoking me by abusing him—­just as anybody might show off a lunatic....  But I did not and never will dispute on such subjects with those who seek not to know the truth.