The Despatches arrived this morning. The give us nothing new, but a good deal of detailed information. I spent a large part of the day in reading the accounts of the terrible action of the 17th of last month. The slaughter was shocking and the result in a degree indecisive. Yet as defeating the rebel scheme of invasion of Pennsylvania it seems exceedingly important. I scarcely know what to think of the position of affairs at home. The President’s proclamation is like crossing the Rebellion with an insufficient attacking column. I fear divisions in the north, which may put us in some danger at a critical moment. Not much else today. After dinner we all went to the Haymarket Theatre to see the piece called the American cousin. I saw it in America several years ago, and it amused me. But it has attained a most extraordinary popularity here, by reason of the skill of one person, who has taken the part of Lord Dundreary. The piece has no literary merit whatever. And the part of the American cousin which with us went far to give it success was very ineffectively done by Mr Blackstone. The other performers are all ciphers. Mr Sothern as Lord Dundreary sustains the whole, and he does it completely. The character is satirical, and aimed at the folly of the young English nobleman. But is is so gentle and pleasant that it drowns criticism in the amusement it affords. I laughed heartily, and felt better for it. There were two other pieces of little interest.