My first business was to try at the post office for letters, but I got nothing but a short note. Our American mail has gone off to Matlock Bath, from which I wrote to day to get it back. I had to walk a mile to the Telegraph too, to give notice of our intention to return, this evening. We had designed to go out and see Blenheim today, but we were told that the family had returned, and during their residence, the place is not open to view. So we devoted the day to seeing other objects of interest. Those which pleased me the most were the Bodleian Library, and the collection of original drawings of Raphael and Michael Angelo, as well as pictures, at the Museum. I could cheerfully have spent several days in studying these embryos of lofty ideas. The new edifice devoted to practical science is instructive, though rather exceptional as looking to the present and the future in the midst of the idols of the past. Our strength as well as our leisure having been expended, we took a meal at the Angle, which is the name of our ancient and not very cleanly inn, we took the train to London, and all arrived safely to a late dinner at home in Mansfield Street.