Mild but cloudy. I felt quite unwell this morning but it afterwards passed off. Rode into town accompanied by Mr. Brooks, by way of Cambridge, to inquire into the condition of Mrs. Parks. She was not better. Time taken up as usual. I am ashamed of my Diary and of myself. Never was my Diary so perfectly uninteresting and never was I so much tempted to close its pages forever. Nothing of any consequence but rumors of violence at the elections in Pennsylvania. My interest in political affairs is failing very much. Indeed I am becoming a piece of vegetation.

Afternoon at home. German. Mr. Brooks is again in great embarrassment respecting his winter arrangements. His intended one has unexpectedly failed. This operates upon my own. I do not incline to live with him, and yet I wish to do every thing that is consistent with my relation to him. The pecuniary advantages attending such an arrangement are considerable. But the love of money is becoming a thing to be guarded against by me. I will not encourage it wantonly. should Mr. Brooks think proper to ask me, I should feel it right to accept, but I will take no step to offer myself.

In the evening I accompanied Mr. Brooks to pay a visit to Mr. Jonathan Brooks. His son the Minister there who has just returned from Europe. No assumption about him though.1 Home at 8 after which I read Ovid and Flaming.