Morning fine. To town with my Wife. To Medford to dine, with Mr. Frothingham who took my Wife’s place in my vehicle. Family dinner and Afternoon wasted.

I have no account of occupation to give beyond the ordinary dull routine of small commissions. The dinner embraced all the members of Mr. Brooks’ family with the exception of the youngest who is (poor fellow) gone to destruction beyond recovery.1 It is not often they all come together. It was pleasant and the party separated early.

I took a stroll after dinner with Dr. Frothingham and we got into conversation upon the motives of action in life and the anxiety for popular applause which influence us all more or less. In the course of it by a somewhat abrupt movement he intimated the possibility of my being solicited to go into public life and into Congress. What does this mean? I asked no questions, passed it off as a thing entirely improbable from my position, and not to be desired by me on my own account at all. This is one of his friendly feelings for which I have to be grateful. Many think better of me than I deserve and some worse. This is the way of the world. I wonder only in this case how the idea, considering my position to parties, could have originated. Evening quiet. Nothing of interest.