The morning devoted to my private letters home. To my children I think I have not failed to write more than once since I have been in England. This has had the effect of making my son John an almost equally punctual correspondent. His natural indolence, the most serious drawback in his character, has been overcome, and this of itself does him good. At four o’clock I called by appointment to see Mr Billings. He and his sister are here to claim the estate of a deceased brother, who appears to have passed his life in London, collecting numberless objects of art and luxury, until his house resembled rather a museum or gallery than a private collection. It is now to be sold again. Such is the revolution of the wheel in London. Quiet evening at home. Read a little of Helen. Alas! Alas!308