Cloudy morning with rain, but it cleared afterwards. Not having my customary work, I confined myself to the task of answering two letters on my files, and reading a little of Leigh Hunt. Much interested in this writer’s nothings. I relish them better than the more vaunted style of Charles Lambe. After dinner a long walk on the other side of Hastings, as far as the cricket ground on the cliff. It was muddy and uncomfortable and I was rather late getting home. In the evening, read Mr Massey’s fourth volume. It is rather less interesting than the prior part of the work.