Cold, frosty morning, but clear. The family all came in from Walton. I wish it was to stay, but there are projected absences for nearly all the month. Singularly enough there was no arrearage to make up. The popular interest in our affairs has been diverted by Christmas and by the condition of Denmark and Germany, so that I get comparatively few letters. I am afraid I dawdled away the day. The expense of the telegrams from America is so heavy on the contingent fund that I have discontinued them from New Year. I feel rather relieved at the prospect of opening no more of the yellow covers. I never did so without emotion. No visits. A longish walk in the evening busy in trying to execute a small commission for Edward Brooks. I also called at the Vere Street Chapel to see about the hiring of a pew. One was offered to me for trial tomorrow. Evening, read a little of Vanity Fair.536