The letters and Despatches came in the morning and made a species of chequered day. My son Charles writes of his joining the army again, suffering seriously from an attack of dysentery, whilst John’s language is unusually cheerful. The public Despatches are not material, but the publication attached to the message is so full as materially to impair my prospect of further usefulness here. I feared this from Mr Seward’s singular absence of tact is delicacy. What I have written I am perfectly willing should see the light, if the publication would promote the interest of the country, but I scarcely imagine it wise in diplomatic life to show your hand in the midst of the game. The press of business this week is uncommonly great and Christmas day is to come out of it. In the midst of my work I received a note from Mrs George Morey asking me to come as soon as possible to see her husband at Edwards’s Hotel who wished me to come before he should pass away. I went at once. She described to me his condition and his illness for which he left America. The excitement of the war had proved too much for his news. But there was still hope for him. She only allowed me to go into his bedroom to shake hands with him. His had was burning enough258 He looked in a precarious state. I can now account for his never having been to see me. She had feared to renew the excitement on his brain. I offered every assistance in my power, and promised to call in tomorrow Mr Morey has always been an honest man. I have known him a politician for a long time, which he seemed to be for the love of the thing rather than from interest or ambition. In the evening Henry returned from his trip to Copenhagen. I was glad to get him back, as his whole trip has been conducted in a storm. On the whole I felt more disturbed and uneasy about public and private matters than I have been for weeks.