I expected a day of leisure to make up the arrears of the week. But I had barely time to finish a letter to my son John before the mail left for Queenstown. A succession of visits kept me employed all day. Nearly all of them were Americans bringing letters, and wanting every thing to be done for them. The most interesting was M Charles Rogier, the Minister of Foreign Affairs of he King of Belgium, who came to ask me concerning the disposition of my government towards a settlement of the Scheldt dues. I could only answer him as I had already done M Van de Weyer some time since, that we should agree to do our part, should England conclude to lead the way. The last persons were Mr and Mrs Bartlett, and by that time it was five o’clock. So my holiday was gone. I then took a solitary walk. It is impossible to live in the midst of an adverse community without being somewhat affected by the sense of it. They construe this last news as implying a complete defeat before Richmond and a retreat of the army. Yet there is no evidence before us to show we are a food further back on the main point of attack. This displays the curious of the people most conclusively— And even the best of our friends yield to it. I somewhat expected new today. But it is repented that the coming steamer is partially disabled. We dined by invitation at Lord Taunton’s. The company consisted of Mr and Mrs Story, and eight or ten others mostly young, whom I did not know. Afterwards to a reception at Count Flahault’s, where were about a hundred persons, principally of the Corps Diplomatique and the Minsters. Lord Palmerston was there and as yesterday avoided recognizing me. Lord Lyons, Sir George Grey, Mr Villiers and others, but no conversation. There never is so far as I can find out, in society. Home by midnight.