Fine morning, quite unexpectedly to me for it was raining last evening. I went to town accompanied by Mr. Frothingham. Nothing of particular moment taking place there, I went to the sale of books at Auction and bid in one or two. On my return I found my father sitting quietly in my Chair. His object in coming in I do not understand, nor did I inquire.1 He left me soon afterwards, and I saw but little of him. Occupied myself as well as I could with the Criminal Trials which is the only amusing work I have within my reach.

At noon I returned again accompanied by Mr. Frothingham. Afternoon wasted. Mr. Brooks had gone to Framingham. Mr. and Mrs. Everett called and paid a short visit. He seems either low spirited or indifferent to what others say or think whom it is not his immediate interest to conciliate. This is prostituting the best feelings of private life. Quiet evening.