Morning passed much as usual, copying a portion of the time and doing nothing more. I am ashamed to be obliged to record so often my indolent habit of life but as I am strongly in hopes it will soon cease, this is my consolation. Went out with John and Mr. Smith to the races today. This practice seems to be going out of vogue here for this was a very slender course. The riding also was quite poor, and as the day did not make exposure the most agreeable thing in the world, I was delighted to be able to return home. I then went out and took a ride with my Mother, after which, the afternoon was filled up with a letter to my friend Richardson.1 Evening at home. Bagatelle with Mrs. Smith.