My draughts of Despatches occupied uncommonly little time today, partly because those from America had not come during hours. They were here in the evening, together with our private letters which were very cheerful. A long one from Charles, very pleasant. But as the war waxes on to its term I feel more and more anxious to see him out of it in safety. It has turned out as I thought little productive of expected fruits. The absence of a great head in the civil and in the military Department has given a new course to the fate of the country. I have at last dismissed all expectation of success. The only thing I hope for is that the principle of emancipation has got such hold that it cannot again be eradicated. With this service we may possibly be safe in the future against a repetition of this evil. Without it we shall continue to tread on coals. I went out in the carriage with Mrs Adams to pay to Mr Mackintosh and Mr Senior. Neither of them at home. Walked back through Kensington park and called on Mr Morey, who is getting to look much better. Evening at home. Read to the family in Orley Farm.