In making up the arrears of two or three days I find I have made an error in the assignment to last evening of the American news, which really did not come until this evening. I attended in company with my daughter Mary the service at the Chapel. Mr Martineau gave a sermon on the transfiguration. It was as usual very abstracted, but I observed that he did not rely upon the account as absolutely real, though he did not deny it to be so. At home, we had visits from Mr Senior and Mr Hayward, from Mr Sturgis, and Sir Gore and Lady Ouseley. I also went out and called on Mr Weed and Mr Munchton Milnes. Evening, read a little of the strange book I have got hold of, the Memoirs d’une Contemporaine. (Here should come in the entry of yesterday, from the words “My son &c”)