Pleasant day, I went to the Office and was again occupied in the transaction of money business. I effected this day, the loan of all the balance of Money remaining in my hands of every description. And the arranging it in proper shape in my account books took me much of the morning. This whole week has been consumed almost entirely in the arrangement and disposition of large sums of money. Perhaps there is nothing at the time more exciting than this pursuit. It has the charm of gambling without it’s torture and sense of shame. Yet after all, for a philosophical mind to reflect upon what it is when divested of it’s only just motive: the means of a competent subsistence, I ought to be particularly careful in this regard, having little excuse to hazard my happiness upon such stakes. My time slipped away so that I lost my walk.

Home but read Livy. My child Louisa is again unwell. Her condition 346is a very singular one. It gives me great anxiety. Afternoon, Niebuhr, and de la Motte Fouqué. Evening, Madame Junot, and finished Bolingbroke’s Letter to Sir W. Windham. Every thing appears to be hushed just at present, Politics more especially. Mr. Brooks passed a couple of hours with us in general conversation.