A genial fine day for once. Lord Russell had appointed an interview with me at his house at noon today and I drove down there, but Lady Russell was obliged to come in to say that he was confined to his bed with a bad enough, and could not see me. I left such of my Despatches as I meant to read to him, for him to look at, and to appoint some future day when he should be recovered to talk over them. The remainder of the day passed in writing and correcting or revising what had been written. There was news from America, but not such as to supply much information. Probably the next accounts246 may clear up the situation of Sherman, who is evidently advancing upon Raleigh. The newspapers of this morning contain reports of the proceedings of the House of Commons in the death of Mr Cobden. Lord Palmerston tried to do something, but he mainly betrayed his own want of conception of Mr C’s character and merits. He dwelt mainly upon his disinterestedness in declining all honors and rewards—which must indeed have been a constant cause of astonishment to a man who has been in place for sixty years, and through all vicissitudes of parties. In truth, it would be difficult to conceive greater opposites than these men. Mr d’Iraeli appreciated better the deceased statesman. His mind is larger and more comprehensive. But even he spoke as if fettered by the consciousness of influences around him which would not admit of his touching realities too roughly. He did say that Mr Cobden was the greatest representative ever produced by the middle classes. This may be true, though it might need some careful comparisons fully to establish it. Its truth is however that symptom of social revolution in the present day unwelcome to the aristocracy, and which will make them prompt to consent to seeing the last of him at the cheap cost a few fading roses case over his body. Walk around Picadilly and the east side of Hyde Park. The fashionables are beginning their customary drives in this inclosure, the loungers delight as usual in watching the movements of the Princess of Wales. As the Queen still refuses to show herself, some royalty must take its place, or people will have nothing to uphold their need of exercise. What a pity we could not get up some corresponding democratic amusement for idlers in America! It would save their evening over here to ape a devotion to different ideas. Mr Alward dined with me, and we then went to the opera at Count Garden. The piece was the Tuvature of Verdi, which I never before saw so well put on the stage. The Orchestra is admirable. The charms and the service effects very good. The cast in general respectable. But I missed Brignoli in Manrico, Didier in Azucena and two or three performers I saw in America in Lenora. Graziani did as well perhaps in Count de Luna as any body. The harmonies which run through the piece were more fully developed to my ear than ever before, though I was less touched by several of the single airs. On the whole I enjoyed the performance more than any of the kind since I have been here. Attendance rather than. Home at midnight.247