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MY DEAREST FRIEND,
YESTERDAY I came to the Senate, as usual on a Monday morning pleasing my imagination and my heart with the hope and expectation of a letter from my dearest friend. No letter for the Vice President! says Matthew.
All day in bad humor. Dirty weather wet walking nothing good nothing right.
Or perhaps mam is sick Oh dear! Rheumatisms Oh dear ! Fever and ague ! Thus peevishly, fretfully, and unphilosophically, was yesterday passed. Yet, to divert it, I read a number of books in Cowper's Homer and smoked I know not how many cigars.
I have had the agreeable society of Josiah Quinsy and Martin Lincoln to assist in consoling me a little of late.
There is absolutely nothing to write, public or private, but such as the above.