Cloudy day with rain. My Despatches came which this week were not much, but the private letters and newspapers filled up the time. The accounts of progress are by no means satisfactory, but the indications of great exhaustion in the rebel states increase and multiply. Very great efforts are making from here to aid them, but the blockade at least makes the supply come slowly. Mr Morse came in, and talked over matters. I know of no form of prevention—and his delay in furnishing the materials has thus far delayed remonstrance. I prepared the papers for my son Henry, who started this evening to carry a package to Mr Wood at Copenhagen, which the government had directed me to transmit by messenger. Mrs Adams, and I with Mary dined by invitation with Dean and Mrs Milman. The company consisted of Sir Edmund and Lady Head, Mr Fronde and his Wife, and some others whom I did not know. A simple entertainment but very pleasant. I am much better suited than with the empty and more chilly ceremonials of the highest rank. Had much pleasant conversation with Mr Fronde who sat next to me, and who though much given to paradox in his historical compositions, is one of the few writers of reputation in that class, of the age. Home rather late.250