An easterly wind qualified the atmosphere of yesterday. I was much engaged in my business of preparing draughts of despatches. Only one or two visits. Although it can scarcely be said that questions increase between the two countries, it is equally certain that correspondence does not diminish. I have grown weary of this constant interchange of words that produce no result. Walk down to Sotheby’s rooms to look at a collection of coins to be sold soon. In generally they were poor— But a portion is very good. Long walk home. We had company to dinner. The Bishop of London and Mrs Tait, Dean Milman, his Wife and son, Mr and Mrs Cardwell, Mr and Mrs Edward Romilly, Mr, Mrs and Miss Lampson, Mr & Mrs Duncan, Mr Morgan, Sir Robert Phillimore, his Wife and daughter. A curious and rare circumstance was that every body accepted who was invited. Mr Cardwell however was detained at the House of Commons. The dinner was pleasant at the ends of the table. But I have my doubts whether such large entertainments with mixed companies can ever be otherwise than formal,and dull to the majority.