Weather cold as usual. I was at home all the morning, particularly as my father returned from the House with the intelligence of the death of a member, Mr. Lawler of Alabama. Occupied the time in bringing up the Arrears of my Diary and in writing a letter to Mr. Brooks. My Wife received three from her friends in Boston last evening, one of which was from him and this I answered.1

Our dinner rather earlier than usual for the sake of riding out to Woodley where my Uncle Mr. Johnson lives. This is a little secluded country place beyond Georgetown where he has retired consulting his taste for solitude. My mother and Mary, my Wife and myself. Found him there but quickly following us came Mr. Pope and Mrs. Hellen.2 So the party being large we returned and took tea at Mrs. Smith’s. Home by ten.