Returned to town this morning with Mr. Brooks. Found a letter at last, from my Mother, but containing little or no information of a satisfactory nature. She says my father has had a sharp bilious attack and the Journey is postponed, making some intimation of a change of plans and destination
which is perfectly incomprehensible to me. I regret very much this state of things and wish earnestly I had nothing to do with it but I cannot avoid feeling some interest in their plans though perfectly ignorant of them. Time will show. Morning in some measure wasted, which will never do. I must set about reform. Afternoon, Clarendon, and Hume, together with a half hour of the Memoirs of Grammont which is considered so amusing.1
Evening, a visit to Miss Welsh by request in which she was very officious. This is in a great degree her difficulty.