No frosts as yet. It would seem as if we were to have no Winter this year. This day was like September. I occupied myself reading until time for divine service which I attended all day. Mr. Motte in the morning. 97. Psalm 2. “Clouds and darkness are round about him: righteousness and judgment are the habitation of his throne.” A discourse upon the mysteries of the Christian Religion not considered as any drawback upon the natural belief in a wise and beneficent deity. Mr. Ripley in the Afternoon from Luke 3. 15 and 16. A parallel between the doctrines of John the Baptist and the Saviour.

Mr. R. is to me the most utterly uninteresting preacher I ever heard. All the other gentlemen who preach strike me as far above him in point of eloquence. But this may partly arise from the prejudice which I have entertained against him from the day of my first seeing him at 261College to this. He always looked that expressive though vulgar word, a sneak. Nor have I forgotten an incident which occurred at Cambridge in my Freshman year which stamped him in my mind of a cowardly nature. However let us pass to more agreeable topics.

I read a discourse of Dr. Barrow this afternoon in continuation of that last Sunday. He then discussed the text as a warning to put no stress upon the objects of this life. He now considered it as consolatory of its evils. The subject is a melancholy one, in either way that we regard it, but a very necessary one to reflect upon at all times and seasons. Evening Mr. and Mrs. Dewint with Miss H. Welsh called to return a visit paid by us this afternoon. They are here to put a son to school.

This is the famous day of Governor’s election, upon which I have thought so much depended respecting the future politics of the State. The indications are so very confusing as to make it difficult to decide what the general result will be. Even in Boston the divisions have been so great as to render it impossible to foretell any thing. We shall know next week.

The day was dark and gloomy. I went to the Office and occupied myself as usual. Went to the Polls and voted the whole Antimasonic ticket. I did not take the trouble to examine it as there was no probability of success. The activity did not appear to be very great.

After doing my work, I had a little leisure which I thought I would spend in a visit to see T. K. Davis. Talk upon politics—A. H. Everett upon whom there is a most ferocious attack in this day’s Atlas.1 I had a great mind to answer it but concluded that the part of wisdom would be to avoid personal altercations.

Home. Juvenal 10th Satire, Vanity of human wishes. Afternoon reading Aristotles Politics. And evening working upon my Medals and Coins. Afterwards, Antommarchi.2