Clear and chilly. The easterly winds are setting in, I scarcely can tell how my time passed. So much of it is absorbed in details of correspondence without much interest that I feel very much as if I was accountable for waste. Mr Lucas called in to ask me a question about the offer of cotton by the United States. While I was talking with him, whoshould come in but Mr John M Forbes. He joined in the conversation. Mr Forbes afterwards gave me some intimation of his errand, which is to investigate the practicability of obtaining contingents of troops from any quarter in Germany. I though not. The only course was to engage the men. I did not doubt they might be had in abundance. Took a walk, and stopped in to see Mr Cropsey’s picture of Richmond hill in 1862. It is very elaborate, but hardly interesting. English landscape deals too much in green for close invitation. The perspective is too monotonous. Quiet evening at home. I read Mr LaBoulaye’s book, Paris in America. Mr Dudley here for a few minutes330