As Chardon Brooks drove my Gig home last Evening, I returned to town with Mr. Brooks.
The weather was rainy and dull. Found a letter from my Mother evidently calculating
upon my going there and felt regret that I should be obliged to disappoint her. But
upon the most mature reflection I think it decidedly my duty not to go, and my inclination
does not vary much from it. The fact is that I am a little tired with the tumult of
a Washington life. But I do not remember that I ever had a stronger paroxysm of melancholy
than today. It went much further than usual, and I did not recover it until I went
to bed. My duties were performed much as usual. Moot Court in the evening and Executive
Record without Cicero.