The day was warm and windy, with a very rapid sand flying indicative of storm. It was very quickly passed in preparing the draught of Despatches, made shorter than usual by the critical state in which the Department at Washington was left by the late news. I scarcely know what the President will do, or where he will look for a person to succeed Mr Seward, or the other members of the cabinet. Mr Everett and Mr Fessenden are the only two persons who seem to me to be competent. But the former is hardly stiff enough and the person who seem to me to be competent. But the former is hardly stiff enough and the latter wants experience. Fortunately for me my affiliations with Mr Seward will render me as little acceptable as he is himself. I can imagine nothing less auspicious than an introduction into the government at this juncture. My thoughts wandered over the future with little power to grasp at any thing special for encouragement. Henry came in from Walton to do work. A visit from young Mr Pennington who crosses from Paris to change the scene. Walked in the evening to the palace Hotel to call on Mr Peabody, but they told me he had left town this morning. Quiet evening at home. I ought to mention my calling to enquire about Mr Morey. The answer was that his fever was taking rather a typhoid shape. Read more of my novel.