The morning was showery with thunder and lightning and prevented my going to Quincy as I had intended. Office where I rather idled away my time. My spirits not very easy from the difficulty I was under as to money engagements. I have engagements for this week for which I am not yet prepared and somewhat uncertain if I shall be. This is a state of things so new to me that I dislike it much. Accounts.

The news from New York of today is not calculated to relieve us. A packet from England announces that the chance of the American Bankers depends upon the remittances by our packets which were trifling as we know although they did not. Another fact brought was that there was a heavy and steady drain of specie upon the New York Banks generally.

Home to read Homer. Afternoon, read Moore’s Life of Byron in order if possible to finish it before the hour for returning it to the Athenaeum, it being the commencement of the annual examination.1 Then Agathon in which I go on rapidly. Mr. P. R. Dalton and Mr. Walsh called in the evening. Conversation mainly upon the present aspect of things which is bad enough. Nobody expected it would fall down so soon. Afterwards, Congreve’s Way of the World.2