On Friday the 3d of November, I dined at Mr. Clay’s with the Corps Diplomatique. He always invites my brother and myself on that occasion. The dinner was rather dull as I sat next to Mr. Arroyo,2
and Daniel Brent.
I have nothing to say for the rest of the month. It passed as quietly as they generally do when we have no Congress to annoy us. It passed with me in the prosecution of my studies, and in the gratification of feeling the progress which I was making. Such a life is the one eminently suited to me. But it seems to have met with the disapprobation of the family and I must resign it pro tempore. I do not believe that I am doing right.3