Morning sultry with heavy clouds, which fell in rain before I reached town. At the Office as usual occupied in closing my Quarterly Accounts. Paid some debts on my own and on account of the Estate of R. New, and passed the balance of the time, in finishing l’Ami des Hommes, and a short Essay to improve the Common lands in France. I have not felt much interested in these. Nothing occurred and I returned as usual.

Afternoon passed in assorting Papers. My spirits have of late experienced a slight depression from a view of my present situation. Circumstances connected with my father’s affairs render it desirable for me to become as soon as possible independent of him,1 and in looking round to consider where my means are, I can see none. The circumstances of the last year in which I have made a trial for distinction, discourage my efforts. There appears no opportunity to gain any standing and if there did, I have great doubts whether I could make any thing of it. The confidence which I had for no imaginable reason I now lose for the same. Yet in considering my present situation, how thankful ought I to be for the innumerable blessings that have been showered upon me. And I am thankful to God every day of my life. My anxiety arises only from a knowledge of my duties, of my situation, and of the heavy responsibilities I am under to my race2 and to my Country. Read Pickering’s review and in the evening, Grimm. His infidelity becomes more and more disgusting. The Spectator afterwards. Mrs. and Miss Adams spent the evening here.