Fine, clear cool morning. Henry accompanied me in attendance on Divine service at Treyford Abbey. The same small attendance, but I think a different Clergyman. Sermon much as usual. After luncheon, a walk to Acton by Gunnersbury, returning on the main road so far as the Elms, and then down the lane, roundabout home. The days have grown so shore that little else can be done by sunlight. I am rather wasting my time in studying the Carolina papers, but it is an absorbing topic, this war. And I cannot resist the desire to measure its continuance. Ensor, the messenger brought some papers from London, containing notice of a later arrival, but nothing new. Evening, read aloud a part of a small volume of miscellanies by J. R. Lavell, sparkling, and droll, in manner but rather superficial in thought.